After a few requests...

I am finally taking some time to sit down and write about my breastfeeding journey with my son.  It hasn't been just an experience, that makes it sound so short, so brief.  This was a long time in the making.  So much sweat, blood and tears (well, less blood, more tears) went into trying to breastfeed Henry.  So I will start from the beginning, and I will do this in parts.  I'm sure this will, at times, be painful to write up.  But it will also (I'm sure) be a huge release as well for me.

Henry was born three weeks early due to pre-eclampsia.  I was not happy about this.  I had a plan and it did not include complications or inductions.  I wanted a natural birth.  I was going to let the cord stop pulsating before it was cut.  I wasn't going to have the vernix washed off, we were going to rub that most wonderful natural moisturizer into his skin.  I had plans.  Well, as I hear is often the case, our son had other ideas.

Henry kept having late decels in his heart rate.  This means that his heart rate would decrease, on a couple occasions drastically at the tail end of my contractions.  It was explained to us that this was the worst kind of decel you can have, that it means Henry is not tolerating labor very well.  After very little progress on my part (I had to be taken off the pitocin b/c of Henry's decels so I stopped dilating) we had to make a decision.  Either we choose the voluntary non-emergency c-section or we continue trying to have a vaginal delivery and most likely end up with an emergency c-section.  With the emergency c-section Jay wouldn't be able to be in the delivery room with us and I would be out cold.  We decided that the best thing was to get Henry out as labor was too stressful for him and I didn't want to be unconscious for his birth.

He was born at approximately 850pm on August 14, 2010 via cesarean section at the University of Washington Medical Center.

The surgery was very stressful for me, as I'm sure it is for most women who undergo c-sections.  I reacted a bit to the medications being pumped into my system - I couldn't stop shaking.  It felt like I was violently shivering only I wasn't cold.  It took about an hour or so after the surgery for that side effect to wear off.

I remember the OB and her students exclaiming as they pulled him out.  I don't remember what exactly was said, something about his hair I think.  I was so doped up on meds I'm a little groggy on what words were said around that time (and honestly for days later too).  I remember hearing his first cry.  That was the first time it was 'real' to me.  It had been kind of surreal the entire pregnancy.  His first cry was quieter than I thought it would be, I expected a little bit more of a hellion type cry.  But it was a cry none the less and that was good.  It meant he was ok.  I remember being very teary and crying a little.  I wanted to hold and comfort him, but I was strapped down across the room from him while they performed their tests on him.  Eventually Jay left my side after the anesthesiologists told him it was ok to go and hold him.

Remembering seeing Jay hold Henry for the first time is still very emotional for me.  He was so careful, so watchful while holding him.  Very protective.  Shading Henry's eyes from the glare of the bright lights in the operating room.  Holding him for all the tests that he needed.  Even one of the anesthesiologists commented how protective Jay was of Henry.  I really don't know how to say this without someone out there thinking I'm insulting my own father (which I'm not, my Dad is so incredibly amazing).  But I can't imagine a better father than Jay.

Henry was so alert when Jay first brought him over to me.  It was amazing to look into his (then) deep dark blue eyes and have him look back.  He just seemed in awe of what was going on, a bit startled too.  But calm, what a calm little man he was.  He was a bit wrinkly and you could see his ribs, so it was obvious (at least to me) that he had lost some weight in utero, so that made me feel better that we made the right choice to induce me early, even if it wasn't what I had wanted.

They wouldn't let Jay carry Henry back to the room, but instead I got to hold him as they wheeled me back to my room where my mom and my doula were anxiously waiting for us.  Shortly after we got back to the room Jay's mom and uncle and my sister joined us.  There were many ooh's and aah's over what a handsome little man he was.  He really never had the squished up baby face, he looked more like a little man.  He was SO alert for this, his eyes wide open taking everything in.  Although I know he really actually couldn't focus on much, he took it in as best as he could.

So soon it came time to try to nurse for the first time.  The whole time I was more than ready to boot out family so I could nurse.  I was so excited and wanted to feed Henry, but didn't want to feed him for the first time in front of an audience.  I had dreamed of this moment.  Henry would latch on.  I would gaze lovingly up at him, he would look adoringly up at me.  Bells would ring and angel would sing - because that's how it's supposed to go right?

Wrong.  Henry was born with low blood sugar (I had gestational diabetes so they kept really close watch on his sugars when he was born for the first 48 hours).  So I had only a short period of time to get him to nurse, to get him to drink my collostrum before they would give me no choice but to feed him formula.  Nice little stressor to add in for a first time mom whose birth experience so far had already thrown her for a loop.  I should add, I am very stubborn.  When I set my mind to something (such as what kind of birth experience I am going to have and how I want to feed my baby) it is REALLY hard for me to let go of.  It's actually painful, physically painful for me to let go of my plans.

Henry right off had problems latching.  Luckily I had a great supply of collostrum so he was able to lick enough off me to get his sugars up sufficiently to have the nurses off my back for at least a short while.  At this point the only problem we thought we had was my flat-ish nipples, his recessed chin and the fact that he was 3-weeks early.

Once his sugars are up and I'm recovered enough we are transferred over to the post-pardem floor for the duration of our stay.  I'm still optimistic, after all, so was everyone else around me.  The breastfeeding had to get easier, and was sure to happen sooner than later.  After all, it was natural.  Normal.  Every mother, every baby can do it.  That's what boobs are for, feeding babies.  I didn't read a book on breastfeeding as to me it wasn't an option on how I'd feed him.  I knew how I'd feed him so why should I read about it?  It's natural right?

I had no idea what I was in for.  The strength I'd find.  The weakness I'd feel.  The tears I'd cry.  The ups.  The downs.  I just had no clue.  I should've read a book.