Our Story

This is not an easy post for me to write.  But, I think it's an important part of my healing process to get this all down.  After a few conversations with people I know, and reading blog posts from other moms with similar circumstances, I think I've worked up the courage to share my real feelings about the birth of my daughter.

I had a very specific plan for a natural birth.  I knew there was a possibility that I might not get the exact birth experience that I wanted.  I thought I was prepared for one or two things to stray off of the course of the plan.  I was not, however, prepared for nothing to go according to my plan.  When my doctor told me I would have to be induced, I burst into tears.  When I was told we had to go to the OR for a c-section, I sobbed again.  Everyone kept telling me that our goal was to have a healthy baby, and not to be too upset because the course of action we were taking was going to ensure a healthy baby.  Well, that just made me mad.  Of course I wanted a healthy baby.  It was absurd to point that out to me.  I wanted a natural birth to keep her healthy.  I didn't want Pitocin or an epidural because I didn't want her to be born medicated.  I didn't want a c-section because I wanted to be able to hold her and begin nursing within her first hour.  I wanted to allow her umbilical cord to stop pulsating on it's own to keep her healthy.  Every choice I made when creating my birth plan was made based on my research as to what would be the best for her.  So, to tell me I had to have Pitocin, and I had to have a c-section to ensure she was healthy was really difficult for me to comprehend because it was so far from what I knew was best for her.

The c-section was very difficult.  I did not react well to the epidural and my blood pressure dropped incredibly low (my husband told me it was 50/30 at one point).  I spent most of the time in the OR either vomiting or fading in and out of consciousness.  I had to force myself to open my eyes to see her when she was born.  I was vaguely aware that my husband wasn't permitted to go see her right away, but was not really concerned with why -- I was too focused on not passing out again. 

This picture was taken minutes after her birth -- I don't remember this at all

 

 

When I got out of the OR and back into my hospital room my husband and my mother met me.  He told me he was on his way back to the NICU, that something was wrong with her lungs and her blood pressure was too low.  He promised to be back soon.  My mom came into the room with me.  I had the worst chills I've ever experienced.  My mom said she was worried I might crack a tooth because my teeth were chattering so hard.  A PA came in to update me on my daughter and to tell me that she should be out of the NICU in a couple hours.  As the epidural wore off, I began to feel better and get a better grasp on what was happening.  Around this time a couple of hours had passed and my husband and daughter soon came into the room.  While I met my daughter just minutes after she was born, it wasn't until three hours later that I was able to hold her for the first time. 

 

I didn't really feel connected to her.  This still makes me cry. I only knew she was mine because they told me she was (and she looked like my dad).  Nursing was difficult for both of us.  I had hoped, since nothing else had gone my way, that nursing would be the one thing I would have control over.  But even that didn't work out and we had to put her on formula while in the hospital.  Once we got home we stopped the formula, but she hated nursing so I joined the ranks of EPs (exclusive pumper).  It took a few weeks before I really felt like she was my daughter.  Within hours of her birth my husband, parents, and in-laws were telling me how much they loved her.  I just didn't feel that immediate connection to her.  It makes me so sad that my own daughter felt like a stranger to me in the beginning.  She grew inside me, and I had no emotion toward her.  That's all changed now, and I can't even remember life without her.  She's the most important thing in my life. 

 

I needed to grieve my birth experience.  And, I needed to know that it was okay to need to grieve.  It sounds so silly, right?  I mean, I have a beautiful healthy daughter.  I should be happy for that and be done with it.  But, it's not that easy.  It was incredibly traumatic for both of us.  It's not the beginning that I wanted for her, and I can never change that.  I can't re-do it.  I couldn't protect her when she was born.  I couldn't help her at all during the first three hours of her life.  As a mother it's my job to protect and help her, and I felt like I failed before I even had a chance to try.  And, because my incision is having such a difficult time healing, I still struggle with feeling like a bad mother.  There have been days in the past two months that I've been barely able to move.  The one blessing about being an EP is that my husband can feed her in the middle of the night.  Most of the time I can't hold her unless I'm in a chair with a pillow on my lap.  It hurts too much.  I can't take her on walks.  I can't do so many things that I want to be able to do with her because I have an open wound in my abdomen. 

 

I know that once I'm healed and she's past her colicky phase all of this sadness and frustration will be a distant memory.  Putting my feelings down helps; I feel like at least I've gotten my feelings out, and I can move on now.  I'm so looking forward to watching her grow.  She is such a beautiful and sweet baby.  I love to make her smile and laugh; I love to hold her in my arms and fall asleep with her on my chest.  While I wish thing happened differently, I know that I'll get past this experience and it will only make me stronger. 

 

 



Nursing Woes

It would be an understatement to say that I did not have the birthing experience that I planned.  I wanted an all natural birth with very little medical intervention.  What I got was an induction, and epidural, and finally a c-section.

I thought I would at least be able to nurse the way that I wanted since nothing else had gone my way (besides the actual birth of my beautiful daughter, of course!).  Unfortunately, that didn't happen either.

Ellie was born at 37 weeks gestation, and we were told nursing would probably be difficult because babies don't develop the rooting and sucking instinct until 38-39 weeks.  I was prepared for the challenge, but feel like we were never really given the chance.  When Ellie was less than twelve hours old we were told we had to supplement with formula.  The neonatologists were worried about weight loss and jaundice.  All babies get a little jaundice, but because she was born with several bruises on her head and face (she really tried to engage -- for days! -- but just wouldn't fit, and she had the battle wounds to prove it) the doctors were worried that her jaundice would be worse than normal. 

Reluctantly, I agreed to supplement with formula, as long as we didn't have to use a bottle.  So, we learned how to use a feeding tube, and we established a very regimented schedule.  Every 2 hours I would nurse on both sides, pump, and then feed up to 10 ml of formula with the feeding tube, but at the breast so Ellie would associate food with my breasts.  I was really OK with this, until we were told on day 2 that she should be eating 30-60 ml of formula at every feeding.  It was hard enough to get her to eat the 10 ml; She obviously was not hungry enough to eat 30 ml!  I got really frustrated with this turn of events, but we were being threatened with bottle feedings and a return to the NICU if she lost any more weight or her jaundice got worse.  I certainly didn't want that, so again, we agreed.  Only, we changed from every 2 hours for feedings to every 3 hours.  I figured if she had more time to get hungry, then maybe she would eat more.

On day 3 they changed our routine once again.  We had to supplement with formula at the breast (for at least 30 ml of formula) and then pump for 15 minutes.  Whatever was collected with pumping would start the next feeding.  This meant that I no longer was able to nurse without any supplements at all.  I was not particularly pleased with this turn of events, but again agreed in order to keep her out of the NICU. 

We were discharged on day 4, under direct orders not to miss our pediatrician appointment that afternoon because of her jaundice (still not bad enough to require light therapy -- just slightly in the danger zone, but already going in the right direction).  When we made it to the pediatrician she asked me how breastfeeding was going I just burst into tears.  I told her I felt like I was force-feeding her and she never had an opportunity to get hungry so it was just frustrating to her.  I didn't want to be on a schedule, I wanted to feed her when she was hungry.  The doctor gave me a hug, told me it would be OK, and we started a new plan.  We would stop the formula feedings (yea!), and we would start feeding on-demand.  This meant that I didn't have to watch the clock anymore, instead I could watch my daughter and let her tell me when she was hungry.

We started that day, and it was an immediate change.  I know babies get more active and alert as they get older, but it was uncanny how her level of alertness increased with the induction of this new plan.  That afternoon I saw her eyes open more than I ever had, she was much more aggressive with feedings, seeking out my breast, not just waiting for me to give it to her.  Maybe it was just me, but she also seemed happier and less stressed or frustrated with the entire act of eating. 

The one good thing about having to formula feed was that Jeffrey was able to be a part of the feedings in a way he otherwise would not have been.  Finger feeding allowed him an opportunity to feel her latch and that was really exciting for him.  He is eagerly anticipating the start of bottle feeding in a couple of weeks so he can be more involved again.