November 3, 2009

Breastfeeding Sucks

Pun intended.

I smell like breast milk and baby poop.  Not every day, but most days.  Thankfully, I have a husband who allows me a few precious moments to shower and dress myself in clothes that are not sweat pants and old t-shirts.  But when he’s at work, I find myself in a constant cycle of nursing, changing diapers and trying my best not to neglect Dawson (which means I spend a lot of time telling him not to touch the baby, the dog or anything that could cause a mess).

Owen has gained 10 ounces in 7 days.  His weight check was yesterday and he is now 8 pounds, 8 ounces (and growing!) which is five ounces over his birth weight.  The nurse expected him to get back to 8 lbs. 3 oz., but she said she didn’t expect him to surpass it by that much.  Apparently newborns gain an average of 1 ounce a day.

The news that my baby is thriving was music to my ears, because the last two weeks of breastfeeding have been torture.  My poor nipples are sore.  I feel like I’m nursing a baby shark.  Or a barracuda.  This child has the strongest latch ever, and we had some latch problems initially.  When I met with a lactation nurse, she gave me a nipple shield to use, and it works great — but then she told me to wean from using it after a week or so, and all hell broke loose.

I spent more time crying, less time enjoying nursing, and poor Owen was sensing my anxiety and refused to latch onto my bare nipple.  After talking to friends (one who has a baby two weeks older than Owen) I learned that it’s okay to use the shield a little longer, as long as the baby is gaining weight.  After I gave myself permission to use the nipple shield, I relaxed a bit and so far Owen is now latching onto my nipples much easier.

I know this is more information than y’all need to know, but if I don’t get this down, I’ll forget that we are indeed making progress in the feeding department.

It’s hard to believe that my baby is 17 days old.  It feels like ages ago that I gave birth.  Those first few days were hard.  My emotions were out of whack, as well as my hormones.  I spent five days crying about anything and everything.  Mostly, I felt guilty for not having as much time to spend with Dawson.  I felt like I was neglecting him, or taking something away from him.

In reality, Dawson loves his baby brother so much.  Not a day goes by that he isn’t asking if he can hold him, kiss him or hug him.  He thinks Owen is the best, and he loves to entertain him by making funny faces and dancing around the living room.

Of course, it’s not all roses.  Dawson is still adjusting to the big change, and he doesn’t understand that he can’t run, jump and yell like he used to.  Now we have to be a little quieter so that baby Owen can sleep.  If I had a dime for every time I said “Shh!  Be quiet!” I could pay off my mortgage.

Someone, please tell me it will get easier.  I feel like I’m on repeat, saying and doing the same things over and over again.

Also, I’m afraid to leave the house.  I’m not so good at nursing in public yet, so I’ve been pumping a bit of milk and taking a bottle with me on trips to the doctor or grocery store.  I left Owen with Doug for an hour to take Dawson Trick or Treating, and my husband was a trooper.  Owen cried for a bit, but Doug managed to feed him the pumped milk from a bottle.  Baby Jaws wasn’t so happy about it, but he survived.

So that’s how things are for now.  We’re hanging in there.  Hopefully I’ll be able to blog more often now that I’m getting into a bit of a routine!