Throughout my pregnancy, I was absorbing a lot of new information. I read books like "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and countless others on how to take care of a newborn, because as any of my close friends might tell you, I was clueless about babies.
I had never been interested in kids, hadn't planned on having them, and the most education I had on them came in my college family psychology course (which was really interesting, by the way). I guess you could say my "kid knowledge" was purely book smarts, with some reluctant field experience teaching swimming lessons while I was a lifeguard.
As I amassed more books and read through them time and time again, there was definitely one thing I knew—breastfeeding would be the best way to go for my infant. Every possible benefit, from the nutrients to the bonding, sounded great to me. I didn't even consider that "other" option. Why should I? God gave mothers the best resource for feeding their babies, right?
My little "M" arrived about 10 days early, although I know she was right on time in God's plan. She was born at 3:56 a.m. and within the first hour of her life, I was breastfeeding. At least, I was pretty sure she was getting something at that point, hopefully the colostrum that is soooo important, as every doctor, nurse and pediatrician will tell you.
We were in the hospital about two and a half days, which was comforting because I had a lot of concerns, questions and general anxiety about having a baby to care for. There was a lactation specialist, "Patty," who saw me twice to ensure that my hold and M's latching on was correct. But by the time we left that hospital, despite my best efforts, I had one cracked, bloody and painful nipple and the other was only faring slightly better.
That was not the expectation I had for the start of what I thought would be an easy procedure. Sure, I could expect some discomfort and maybe a little pain, but cracked and bloody?!
M had her newborn appointment on a Monday, so my husband and I had our baby girl all to ourselves that first weekend. M was hungry and crying a lot, and I breastfed her despite that burning pain. I followed all the advice I had ever read—some of our sessions I was in tears—but I was determined. I could deal with pain, I wanted what was best for my baby!
Hindsight is 20/20, of course, and when we took M in to the pediatrician and she freaked out about M's lingering jaundice, we realized she had indeed been that way all weekend. She had also dropped in weight. The doctor asked me if I would consider supplementing with formula until my milk came in.
Parents want what's best for their baby—"Of course!" I said. Anything to help my baby! And thus began the start of a very stressful and crazy four weeks.
Like I mentioned, I hadn't considered formula for M while pregnant. All of a sudden, I was plunged into this crazy world of bottles, nipples, formula and trying to continue breastfeeding. The pediatrician had given us trial bottles of pre-made Similac, and I fed it to M with those cheap plastic nipples that have only one flow: fast!
She choked a little, but she was so content after that first bottle. With her contentment came the painful realization that she had been fussy that weekend because she was hungry. I felt like I had been smacked in the face—or maybe like I had smacked her. I had fed her as often as she wanted... Why wasn't I getting milk?!
It was a scramble for my hubby and I to get bottles (Avent, Nuk, Playtex?), nipples (slow, medium, fast, ergonomic or regular?) and formula (Similac, Enfamil, generic?) all while trying to maintain the breastfeeding.
And this was all within the first day after M's newborn checkup.
To be continued...
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