I'm very pleased to introduce the sweetest little baby on the block:
Here are the range of emotions I've felt in the past 10 minutes:
Elation Being a mom is the greatest!
Love How can i love something that weighs 7 pounds so much?
Terror Did I get all the soap off the pacifier?
Guilt I should not be giving my 3 week old a pacifier, especially one with soap on it
Anxiety the pacifier will ruin breastfeeding, sleeping, and her life
Triumph I got her to sleep!
Defeat Even though it took a pacifier
Exhaustion If I slept for 30 minutes on the sofa will this make me feel better or worse?
And then repeat.
And that about sums up the last 3 weeks: lots of happiness, tears, profuse sweating, heavy pain meds, lactation consultants, sweet baby smell, and waking up after 1 hour of sleep pondering whether the human psyche can withstand months on end of not sleeping.
Back to the beginning.
I've decided NOT to share my birth story.
Bottom line: It was fairly horrific.
Some brief facts: My baby was not sideways, my ENTIRE uterus had flipped 90 degrees sideways. 3 surgeons, 1 softball sized fibroid removed, several smaller fibroids removed from the omentum (what is that?), and lots of deep breathing later I began the not so small task of healing. Did I mention that I was awake for the whole damn thing?
So that's that (insert sound of hands wiping away the memory)
I've never been so grateful for doctors, for making it to my scheduled c-section, and for demerol in my entire life.
Most days are great! Some days are not so great!
I hurt a lot. My incision, my boobs, my feet (?), my head
But some days I don't hurt and I get to celebrate having a life again by taking a long walk, by going to the mall, by eating (yes! eating) - and those moments have been incredibly wonderful.
I'm struggling with breastfeeding. Not a moment goes by where I don't ponder giving up. I've seen a bizillion lactation consultants and I might see one more. For a couple of days I feel insanely triumphant and I think I'm starting to get the hang of it and it starts hurting less and then something changes and it starts hurting again. Like a t-shirt hurts too much to wear. Crying while trying to feed your very hangry baby is not the most confidence building moment. I keep hearing if I can just make it through the first weeks it will be wonderful. I keep waiting. I read the label on the formula box to convince myself to suck it up some more - why should my baby eat safflower oil - I think. Then I think I was raised on formula and I turned out fine. No wait, better than fine! All are true statements. I have an open wound on my nipple. A gaping hole. That sometimes starts healing. Yes! I'm a great, breastfeeding mom! I've triumphed! And then the next day it opens up again. What did I do wrong? Wahhhhh.
And yeah, the whole idea that breastfeeding doesn't hurt is bs. It does.
Pumping hurts too.
Spare me the lectures. I've tried everything. It still hurts.
And it's not the pacifier.
But I keep trying. Onward soldiers.
I love this little girl. Her sweet little baby smell is addicting. She stretches for about 5 minutes every time you wake her up which might be the cutest moment of every day. She wears a little polka-dot jumpsuit. She furrows her brow and props her hands up like a cherub painting. She poops her pants at least 6 times a day. She passes out like a drunk when she is full. Her dad loves her SO much.
Every day is sweet, easy, difficult, confusing, and full of heart expanding love and happiness.
And it would be even better if my bosoms (as my mom calls them) stopped hurting.
Time for some more pain meds.