Day 78

     I had it in my mind that nursing this time around would be a breeze. Even if she was a preemie, my daughter would latch on and nurse like a champ from the first time. There would be no visits to the doctor for the dreaded weight checks, no need to supplement and no frantic phone calls to a lactation consultant.

     Well, I was very wrong.

So this is part of the reason I've been stuck in my house since returning home. 

     I know I set myself up with unrealistic expectations this time around. Mostly I wanted to believe that something about this process would be easy. I anticipated that there would be a learning curve as Caroline and I began our nursing relationship, but I did not anticipate the low supply due to a variety of health factors on my part and the sleepiness and immaturity on the part of my daughter. As a late preterm infant, Caroline still has not developed to the point of a full term and it's glaringly obvious when I compare her (I know I shouldn't!) to other babies. Her due date is next Friday and I can only wonder what our lives would look like if we had made it that far.
     For one, maybe I wouldn't be using this ridiculous looking, although helpful, contraption- a Supplemental Nursing System (SNS). Basically it is used with either breast milk or formula to supplement what she is getting at the breast. Caroline's prematurity came with under developed muscles that make her sucking inefficient and cause her to tire quickly. The additional nutrition should help her to gain weight and be more effective with her latch as she grows. However, this might be one of the most awkward things I have ever used. And I  have to pump. And I'm exhausted. And stressed. And feeling like a failure again because I didn't keep her in to full term.
     I know some of you mothers who are reading this may be thinking back to previous conversations you have had with me where I spoke with you about the difficulties of deciding how to feed your baby. I'm always the first person to say "do what you need to do to keep sane" or "the most important thing is to make sure you feed your baby". I stand by those statements and every other conversation I've had. For me personally however, I need to nurse. Maybe it's my way of controlling something about this situation. While I couldn't control the pregnancies or deliveries of my children, I could still make sure I breastfed. For some reason, I have hung onto this since Lucas was born and it stays with me today.

     The picture I shared above shows me after the lactation consultant left my house this afternoon. I was feeling positive. Caroline has gained another 1.5 ounces, although she is still not back to her delivery weight. By the end of the day, I was in tears. In fact, as I write this I'm still crying- I think there is some exhaustion playing a role right now. Clearly we are going in the right direction. Clearly I am devoted to making sure my daughter is healthy. Clearly I need to give myself some credit.

     Thank you for allowing me to share my stories of womanhood/motherhood. I'm so lucky to be surrounded by a such a supportive community. The phone calls, messages, emails and comments all mean so much to me and encourage the honesty in my writing. Now that I am the mother to a little girl, I find it all the more important to work to discover the beauty in that honesty and to take a "body positive" approach to life.

Day 77

     Is there anything more imperfectly beautiful than a deflating postpartum belly? It's the perfect example of sacrifice, growth, love and life.

That belly once held this baby

     For over seven years my body has either been pregnant, trying to get pregnant or recovering from being pregnant. And now that part of my life is over. The feelings I'm having during this postpartum period could only be described as complicated. During the last few weeks of this pregnancy I was in tears nearly everyday, wishing, praying, hoping and begging for this to end. I told myself that this was a mistake and I simply wasn't strong enough. I was filled with doubt, depression, anxiety and a real concern over my mental and physical health. My husband is my rock and somehow he kept me going despite my daily pleas for this to end. The doctors were concerned for my health and there was some discussion about delivering early for maternal distress. But it never went beyond a hypothetical because I knew in my heart that it wasn't safe. During an appointment with my psychiatrist he told me to remind myself each time it felt too hard to continue, that I was never going through this again. It helped to approach the pregnancy this way, but it also felt wrong to be counting down the days not with joyful anticipation, but with disengaged gratitude to be so close to the end.

     On March 5th, I went into the hospital for the fifth and final time with contractions that could not be tolerated at home. I never really went into detail before, but the issue in the last two months of the pregnancy was preterm contractions (prodromal labor). They were painful, constant throughout the day- everyday, and they did nothing to induce labor. The baby tolerated them well, so nothing could be done other than medication and bed rest. I was given injections in the hospital whenever the contractions were too painful to tolerate. They wouldn't stop them, but they did decrease the frequency. At home I took another medication every 4-6 hours to help, but that too never stopped them completely. I took baths, showers and tried to sleep but the pain was too much to get rest. I'd dream about being in labor and wake up to contractions. All along I didn't dilate and the baby didn't mind, so I suffered. A lot.

     Each day that the baby stayed in, was a benefit to her health, but took away from my own. It's difficult to talk about the last two months. I really struggled, and my reproductive history plagued me with guilt for feelings so negative. How could I possibly hate this pregnancy so much when I know so many others who would trade places with me in a heartbeat? I remember the torture during each struggle to conceive. Here was a blessing and I was blinded by my pain.
The last four days of the pregnancy were spent in the hospital hooked up to monitors, an IV and heavily medicated. Our goal was to make it to 37 weeks but at 36 and 4 days, Caroline decided she had enough and I was rushed in for an emergency csection. While I was prepared for the inevitable NICU stay, the surgery and subsequent delivery were probably the most frightening moments of my life. I'll spare the details, but suffice it to say that there are certain sounds that will haunt me forever. The whole time I kept reminding myself that I was never going to go through this again.
     That was the theme over the next few days. Trouble with pain management in recovery? I'll never have this again. Not able to touch/hold my newborn for almost 24 hrs? Never again. Can't nurse the baby and have to pump instead? Last time ever. Massive stretch marks that appeared during the final IV fluid filled days of torture? Done.

     But as the days passed, the hormones fluctuated and I bonded with my daughter, I began to mourn the fact that I was never going to feel the kicks of a growing baby within me again. How absurd! After all that we went through, after all the tears and struggles and doubt- I was practically in hysterics over the thought of never conceiving again! I guess this is biological instinct that has kept humans reproducing despite the difficulties that accompany the process.

     I'm happy to say that as we approach the two week mark, my emotions regarding never having another child have calmed down (emotions on other topics, not so much!). I look at our daughter and I know she was worth the sacrifices that our family had to make. I know she completes us. My body went through hell in order to bring our children to this world. I'm surprisingly content with the condition my body has been left in after this pregnancy. I have scars, stretch marks, saggy skin and an odd looking belly button. But I have a full heart and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced.