November 23, 2009

The Flu and More Breastfeeding Woes (Yes, Again)

I don’t know how it happened, but Owen came down with the stomach flu.  He had been having bowel movement troubles for several days and after seeing what looked like a streak of blood in his poop, I took him the pediatrician immediately.

The doctor inspected the diaper, checked over my sweet baby and told me it was the flu.  “Not H1N1,” she said, and I was relieved, but Owen’s fussiness continued and I was at my wits end.  Three days of a non-sleeping baby and then the fourth day he slept a lot.  So much in fact that he didn’t wake for five hours.  I woke up in a panic, made sure he was still breathing and promptly pumped my engorged breasts.  Thank God for Medela.

Now it seems like he’s feeling a little better, but he still fusses at the breast and I’m afraid he’s taken a preference to the pumped milk in a bottle.  I’m not sure what to do.  Let him cry a little to make him hungry?

He sometimes falls asleep while nursing and the second I de-latch his tiny mouth and lay him in his bassinet, he wakes up frantically and starts rooting and sucking on his hands.

It was so crazy that I finally just gave him another two ounces of milk and he slept soundly.

I’m sort of feeling like I’m messing up this breastfeeding thing, and frankly, I’m sick of talking about it.  For the last five weeks it’s been nothing but NURSING! and NIPPLES! and IS THE BABY EATING ENOUGH?  IS HE STARVING?

Ugh.  If I’m not over analyzing my milk supply, I’m studying the contents of his diaper like a mad scientist.  He’s still having trouble with his bowels.  He strains and cries as he tries to poop.  His face gets red as a cherry and I feel helpless because I hate seeing him struggle.

Right now, as I type, he’s fussing.  I just spent 45 minutes trying to get him to nurse, on and off, fits and starts. Blah.

Any advice?  I seriously need it.

November 19, 2009

One Month Later

Owen is now one month old and just when I thought I was understanding his “routine” he went and changed things completely.  Perhaps it’s another growth spurt, but suddenly I’m nursing every hour non-stop and sleeping NOT AT ALL.

My days consist of breastfeeding, trying to get some rest, trying to squeeze in a shower, and taking care of Dawson’s needs, too.  It’s exhausting and frustrating and I find it hard to believe that things will get better.  That’s what my mom friends say to me, the ones who have older infants:  It will get better.  Really?  When?

I love my children very much, but the time and attention they demand from me is somewhat daunting.  While I love every happy moment with my boys, I feel crazy when I am sleep deprived.  Last night I cried a lot because every time I tried to put Owen down, he awoke frantically, demanding a nipple be shoved into his tiny mouth.  I was losing my mind.

I cannot tell you how often I think about abandoning this breastfeeding thing altogether, but the Mom Guilt gets in my way.  Which is probably a good thing.

Lately I find myself awake in the middle of the night, breastfeeding and watching all the shows I have stored on the DVR.  During the day, I have to take a nap while Owen “sleeps” in my arms (for as little as twenty minutes sometimes), and we all know his rapid eye movements and grunts and grimaces does not constitute sleep.

Getting Dawson ready for school and on the bus each morning is so difficult.  I sometimes walk around the house while Owen is in the sling (he won’t nurse while in the sling, however) and try to get Dawson dressed, fed and out the door on time.

My days are so repetitive, yet so unpredictable.  The routine is the same, but different each day.  I know that only makes sense to me.

I don’t even have time to blog.  These hit and run blog posts suck, I realize that.  But until I get more than 15 minutes to do something other than eat, sleep and breastfeed this is probably all you get.

I’m hoping to get better at this again.  I miss you all terribly.

November 6, 2009

Feeding Frenzy

This delicious baby is keeping me very busy.  When he’s not eating, he’s eating and eating.  Occasionally he sleeps for a few hours, usually at night, which is a blessing!  But all day long he cluster feeds and my boobs are kind of tired.

Is this normal?  A growth spurt perhaps?  Will he forever need to eat every hour for most of the day?  Because if so, I may need nipples of steel.  Seriously.  I don’t remember Dawson doing this.  And maybe that had a lot to do with the fact that he only breast fed for 3 months.  Maybe he wasn’t getting enough milk and I caved in and gave him formula to stop the endless fussing.

Mr. Owen, however, is a champion eater.  If there were a contest for breast feeding, this baby would win, hands down and mouth open!

If you’ve worn these shoes this nursing bra before, please send me your advice.  I feel like I’m flying by the seat of my pants straps of my bra!

Must go feed Baby Jaws. Again.

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!