life with a new baby
All About Nathan
Breastfeeding and its Challenges
Aug 24th

A very upset little guy
Before Nathan was born, my husband and I decided I would exclusively breastfeed as long as I was medically able to. I set a goal for myself: a minimum of a year. The AAP (American Academy of Pediatrics) recommends exclusively breastfeeding for the first six months of life, for a minimum of a year or longer as long as it is mutually desired. The WHO (World Health Organization) recommends breastfeeding for a minimum of two years and longer. I did hours and hours of research on the benefits of breastfeeding, joined forums and support groups, and talked with other breastfeeding moms. I thought I was going to be a pro. Well, Nathan had other ideas about how things would go… but it wasn’t his fault.
The first time I thought I would have to quit breastfeeding was before it even began. When problems with jaundice arose in the hospital, the doctors and nurses there pressured me into giving him formula to help rid the bilirubin from his body. Although we were adamant about the hospital staff not giving Nathan artificial nipples (bottles and pacifiers), they didn’t listen. We also tried to feed him via syringe, dropping the formula into his awaiting mouth. Nathan developed nipple confusion. He would scream every time I tried to breastfeed him. Distraught, I was a hair from just giving up and letting him just have formula. The staff tried to help, but they contradicted each other when it came to how to get Nathan to latch on. If it wasn’t for the WONDERFUL International Board Certified Lactation Consultant (IBCLC) on staff at the hospital, I’m sure I would have thrown in the towel. She was able to fix his latch and turn the nipple confusion around. She was amazing! Nathan did wonderfully for the next two weeks, gaining his birth weight back during that period. I was as proud as a preening peacock for my accomplishment.
Nathan, however, had other tricks up his sleeve.
For the next month, I dealt with him screaming, thrashing, and fighting me at every single feeding, without fail. It took an enormous amount of patience to get him to eat… but I did it. He gained an adequate amount of weight and suddenly, all our problems seemed to vanish and he started really enjoying our nursing sessions.
The next two months after that were a breeze. I couldn’t have asked for it to be any better.
When he turned about four months old, however, he went on a nursing strike. It was horrible. I couldn’t get him to eat no matter what I did. He would fight me, scream, scratch, arch his back, and kick like a deranged jackrabbit. I halfway wondered if my milk was poisonous, causing him to writhe like he was being electrocuted. A couple weeks later, we went to the doctor and she said the dreaded words: He’s off the growth chart and underweight. Let me note that there is a separate growth chart for breastfed babies since they gain weight differently than formula-fed babies. The pediatrician argued with us, saying all breastfed babies are supposed to be fatter than formula-fed babies. Was she ever so wrong! She sent us home with instructions to feed him more.
In the meantime, I met with another IBCLC to discuss how to get Nathan’s weight back up and techniques on keeping him at the breast longer. She recommended renting a hospital-grade breast pump to increase my supply. We did, but my supply was at a standstill and Nathan still would not comply. He loved getting his bottles, but I simply was not ready to give up on breastfeeding. Frustrated and worried sick, my husband and I changed pediatricians to one my doula recommended. The new office was wonderful, helpful, and quite knowledgeable. The Nurse Practitioner we saw breastfed her twins for 14 months, so she knew what she was talking about. She recommended trying to feed Nathan by breast first, and when he refused, to supplement with 5-6 oz of expressed milk or formula after each feeding. I loathed the thought of using formula- I wanted so badly to exclusively breastfeed him for the first 6 months of life, as recommended by the AAP. However, I simply could not pump out enough milk. Let me make a note here that the amount of milk pumped out is NOT an indication of how much of a supply you have… many women simply do not respond that well to a pump. A baby is much more efficient at extracting milk than a pump. Anyway, we caved and started supplementing with formula during the times when I had no expressed milk. After a worrysome experience with blood in his stool (from a cow’s milk protein reaction) and switching formulas multiple times, we finally found one that is working well, so far. I have been taking the herb Fenugreek to boost my supply, and it is working wonders. (Note: do not try to boost your supply unless an IBCLC has determined your supply is too low. Oversupply can cause a myriad of problems with both mother and baby.) I met with the IBCLC that helped me in the hospital after Nathan’s birth, and she determined his screaming, thrashing, and writhing were probably caused by teething. She told me to use some teething medicine on him before his nursing sessions. We like Humphrey’s Teething Medicine, which is a homeopathic remedy that works wonders. Nathan is finally eating fairly well again, although we still have issues where he refuses the breast and ends up getting a bottle of expressed milk. He is gaining wonderfully, growing fat rolls on his arms and legs, and catching up quickly to where he is “supposed” to be on the chart.
Multiple times, I have thought I would have to give up breastfeeding and just switch to formula, but I am so glad I didn’t. It takes patience, perseverance, and pure will power to get through the hard times, but it’s so worth it. I will bend over backwards to ensure he still gets the benefits of my breast milk, and I look at adding a little formula for a supplement as an extra boost in calories. We still have our breastfeeding bonding time, and he is gaining weight at the same time. Everything always works out in the end. If you are a breastfeeding mother going through a rough patch, just remember that this too shall pass. Don’t give up!
Nathan Scissor Legs
Aug 23rd

Feet Vying for the Camera...
My little guy has scissor legs. When he’s happy or excited about something, he will pump the air with his legs in a combination bicycle/scissor motion while chortling contentedly, usually with his index and middle finger of his right hand in his mouth. He does this after diaper changes, during nursing sessions, while watching Blue’s Clues, and any other time that provokes feelings of happiness. Sometimes when he’s Scissor Legging in his bouncy seat, he’ll inadvertently thump his legs down with a force tremendous enough to shake the floor. I marvel at his flexibility. He nonchalantly plants his feet on his face, making him look like a master contortionist and providing his mommy and daddy with endless hours of amusement. There is no such thing as boredom in this house.
A Harrowing Experience Called…. Childbirth
Aug 19th

7 lbs 13 oz, 21" long
It shouldn’t be. Seriously. Childbirth is a natural thing… women have been birthing for thousands, if not millions, of years. The medical field of today agrees with a roaring “that’s right, folks!” but their actions say otherwise.
They strap you down to a bed via blood-pressure machines, IV lines, and fetal monitoring devices, rendering you immobile and in the worst possible position for childbirth- your back! For someone with back labor, the pain is so overwhelming that you’re susceptible to the little devil’s advice on your left shoulder as he whispers sweet nothings into your pain-clouded mind. Something about epidurals and how they can make the pain vanish… it’s only a little needle in the back, he says. You want it. You know you do, he says enticingly. You find yourself agreeing begging for the epidural in a language you never knew existed before that last contraction. The anesthesiologist comes in and gives you the drugs.
Ah, sweet relief.
The nurses wait until they see your face relax and your lips curve into the beginnings of a relaxed smile and then WHAM! They start scrambling around and talking in acronyms, causing your pulse to skyrocket because the air has suddenly been filled with EMERGENCY-MODE electricity. They are exuding massive amounts of tension, like a malevolent fog masking a pond. They say your blood pressure dropped due to the epidural, so they shoot you up with epinephrine. They sneak Pitocin on you without your consent, then they squeal that the contractions are so intense that the baby’s pulse has become irregular. The doctor rushes in, speaking in acronyms so, of course, you don’t know what they’re talking about… there is a neon yellow DANGER sign flashing in your head, perspiration dots your brow, and your eyes dart around with fear. Then they haul out the vacuum and proceed to suck your tiny little human out like he’s a mere bug, all the while murmuring about how they must hurry up and get him out because his pulse is irregular and the cord is around his neck.
His pulse more than likely would have been fine had they not snuck the Pitocin in, thereby ramping up the contractions, causing fetal distress.
One intervention (epidural) leads to other interventions… all the while leaving the mother scared out of her mind.
I wasn’t able to calm down until my little bundle of angry joy was screaming mercilessly in my quivering arms… after 40 minutes of not being able to hold him because the nurses thought it was more important to check his vitals and do his screenings than bond with his mother. What a fiasco- but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
I had my little guy and some crazy memories to share with him when he grows up. However, if there is ever a next time, I will probably give a birthing center a call instead. Although the hospital said they treat childbirth as a natural occurrence and not an emergency, their actions spoke otherwise, rendering the experience harrowing and not something I’m jumping to repeat any time in the near future.
I will miss that epidural, though.
It was wonderful.
On the other hand, I’m sure my husband wouldn’t mind learning a whole new language…
He was the best thing during my labor. He kept my forehead covered with a cool cloth, kept ice-chips in my dehydrated mouth, kissed my parched and cracking lips, and even nodded sympathetically at each new curse word I invented.
What a perfect man! He still loves me after seeing me akin to a demonic possession.
The doula my husband hired was great as well.
Before heading to the hospital, she came over to our house and helped me with breathing techniques, relaxation, and attempted to get me mentally prepared for it all… but it was all moot once the doctor broke my water in the hospital.
I swear I grew three swivelling heads, each complete with a pair of fangs.
She helped my husband to help me, never once chastising me for my atrocities. I probably would have eaten her and everyone else in my room had she have done so. Alas, it all worked out for the best; I have some not-so-fond memories… but believe it or not, time is turning those memories into more of a rosy color. It gives my husband and I something to laugh maniacally about when the effects of sleep deprivation kick in…

Recent Comments
Aww thanks, Tina, it was good to see you too! I wish I could have talked to you more... I ...
I'm sorry you all had a rough go yesterday, but it was good to see you both :) I have ...
Thank you, I appreciate that. It's so cool to hear people say that we look alike... I've been told there ...
Awww... what really nice photos! You two look so alike, especially with the way you smile.