When It Rains, It Pours

This was the thought that just passed through my mind as I closed the blinds and curtains to GK's room and laid her down for her afternoon nap.  I felt it would be a fitting title to this post as I sit here with the fierce lightning, crashing thunder, crazy winds, and pouring rain in our little Birmingham abode.  It's car-alarm-run-amok type thunder!  The most powerful storm we've had in weeks!

Anyway, I found it fitting because this morning my parents left, James is working until 7, and the heavens are crying with me!  I can't say the weather is too far from my current mood...

As my last post stated, my mother was here for two weeks to help after my surgery.  She wouldn't allow me to lift Georgia AT ALL, so her days (and nights) were spent picking up little G out of her crib, putting her down in her crib, putting together her bottles, feeding her, burping her, cleaning off her own clothes when the inevitable spit up came, setting her on the floor to play, playing with her, picking her back up, changing her diapers, giving her baths, getting her ready for bed.  Over and over and over.  All the while, tending to me, making dinners each night for James and myself, doing laundry, and keeping the house clean.  Now I know what it's like to have live-in help...and I'd be lying if I said I was sitting here and not missing it!  My mother was super woman.  Sometimes I feel it can become trite to say, but I can’t help but just think how blessed, blessed, blessed I am.  It was a humbling experience.

‘When it rains it pours’ would also be an apt description of my emotions these two weeks!  The fog of pain meds, combined with pain, combined with not being able to care for my child for days, combined with having to stop nursing… it’s been tough. 

Yes, I just said I had to stop nursing. 

Tears spring to my eyes as I type this.  Just a little backstory… this past month GK has been having trouble nursing.  She pulled away quickly, didn’t feed for long, and often cried.  This was very abnormal.  It was also the same time we were getting her used to bottles, so my mom could feed her stored milk while I was in the hospital.  We finally got her to take a bottle and she began to love it.  I know there is a difference between correlation and causation in statistics, but at the very least there is a connection between her newfound love of the bottle and her trouble nursing in my mind.  I’ve always had trouble pumping and have never been able to pump more than 3 oz at a time.  I spent the last month pumping enough to store milk for TWO days worth of feeds during my hospitalization.  It was frustrating! 

Anyway, so even before the surgery we were having some problems, but I was doing all I knew and could do to get things right.  She had noticeably lost weight and even Mom and Katie noticed when they arrived.  I was getting to be very concerned.  I talked to a lactation consultant in Houston and one at the hospital here to prepare for the surgery and know when to ‘pump and dump’ and when I could start using the milk.  I arranged to rent a hospital-grade pump while in the hospital hoping it would help.  Loooong story short, after the stored milk ran out, the milk I was currently pumping (even though deemed ‘safe’) looked super sketch to me, had no fat to it (probably b/c I wasn’t able to keep much down for a few days), she was still struggling to feed, and with everything going on, I decided it was maybe time to switch to formula.

Looking back, I don’t think I realized in that moment how hard I would take that decision.  The next few days were so very painful emotionally as I suddenly (and without much mental preparation) stopped doing my favorite thing of motherhood- nursing.  I’m sure it didn’t help that at the same time I was hardly even able to care for GK and that added to the emotional struggle. 

Honestly, I didn’t deal with any post-partum depression, but the last couple weeks have been pretty hard and, at times, a bit dark.  Lots of tears.  Lots of questions.  Lots of doubts about myself as a mother.  Did I do enough?  Did I give up too easily?  Will we still have the same bond as before?  Does she even need me now? (That last one is so ridiculous and the product of allowing the devil to whisper in your ear.)

My mother, in her wisdom, saw my troubled spirit and began to make sure I fed GK her bottles every time and put her in places where it would be easier for me to comfortably play with her—like on my bed.  It helped repair what felt like a broken bond.  And I began to heal.

I’ve known many mothers who weren’t able or decided not to nurse past 6 mos (including my own) and they are wonderful mothers and their bonds are super strong with their children.  So, please don’t think I am questioning anyone else on that.  I’m just relaying my experience.  I do encourage my mother-friends to give nursing a try, because, though it may sound strange, it is also the most wonderful experience!  The knowledge that I not only helped create a life and bring it into the world, but that I am also able to sustain that life is very powerful!

Today, I am sad missing the companionship of my mother, but I feel that I am healing very well (post-op appt is Monday) and Georgia and I are having a blast together. :)  I am thankful that as the tears streamed down my cheeks this morning, she was able to giggle and smile and pull my hair…and, thus, snap me out of the loneliness!

I hope you know I write this personal post for myself (it’s cathartic), but also in case it may help another.

Well, what do ya know?!  Now the sun’s shining outside…how fitting. :)
 
Thanks for caring!

P.S.  Formula is expensive.The end.