Breastfeeding is no fucking joke. It is by far the most painful, frustrating, difficult thing that I have ever had to do. Every single woman who has ever breastfed, whether it be for a day, a week, or for years I high five you. I cheer you. While realizing that a high five and cheer comes nowhere close to being what you deserve.
There is no shortage of information for new mothers on the benefits of breastfeeding. Do I want my children to have robust immune systems? Yes! Complete nutrition? Of course! How about lowered risk of heart disease? Definitely! Close bond with me? Absolutely! All of these things are possible for me and my babies. All I need to do is breastfeed, the most natural way of providing nutrition to my children. Women have been breastfeeding for as long as humans have existed. It is natural. Natural means it will happen if I just try right?
None of the information I read prepared me for the reality of nursing, let alone nursing twins. Nothing prepared me for the incredibly intense and overwhelming experience of laying in the hospital bed, hours after delivering the twins, attempting to breastfeed my new son. The clucking of the nurses, the two to three sets of hands around me and the baby. The tisking with the realization that my nipples are inverted (who knew there was even such as a thing as inverted nipples? WTF?) and the explanation that I will need to use shields and pumping to convert my nipples. More hands. Pulling. Twisting (yes, twisting). More advice. And pain. Lots of pain.
We used all of the resources available during my stay in the hospital. Lots of advice. Lots of guidance. Explanation of what a good latch is vs. a bad latch. Pumping. Advice on how to increase milk supply. The introduction of hand expression (think milking a cow udder). Around all of this is this energy of - you need to nurse. You need to get your supply up. Here are things that you SHOULD eat. Here is a list of things to avoid. The word SHOULD echos throughout.
After we were discharged home the breastfeeding attempts continued. By this point I was having to supplement with formula because of their percent weight loss. Feeding times involved feeding at the breast, followed by syringe feeding of formula, followed by pumping, followed by syringe feeding of the pumped milk. All of that would take two to two and a half hrs. The the babies and I would sleep for three hours. Exhaustion. Stress and exhaustion limit milk supply.
Meeting with the lactation specialists involves more information. Me laying in a chair with a hungry baby laying at my nipple. Another set of hands, pushing, squeezing, showing how it should be done. More discussion of what should be done to help with latching. And supply. And more pain. Me pushing through the pain and exhaustion because I want to breastfeed. I want to give my babies the best possible everything, which means their momma's milk. So I keep pushing. I diligently follow the list of things I should do. And not do. I feed. I pump. I teach. I become afraid of the pain of latching. And then...I crash.
That is when I decide to allow myself to bring something different to my relationship with feeding my babies. I shifted the energy of feeding time. I worked with the lactation consultant to reduce the duration from two and a half hours to one hour. I discover that ease for me means ease for the babies. I can feel my body healing. The ease we have discovered brings rest and rest brings energy that can be devoted to my physical recovery which in the end means better milk supply and benefit for my babies.
My shift does not mean that I do not love my babies any less. It does not mean that I desire anything less than the best for them. In fact it takes quite a bit of love and devotion to these littles to make the choice to shift so that they are getting what they need for nourishment. We are snuggling more and pain is out of the picture. Fear is still lingering around but I keep reminding myself that I get to keep choosing and shifting. What is true today will not necessarily be the truth tomorrow. This is the right choice for me and my babies for this moment, so I am going to breath in the sweet smells of baby skin. Gaze into their eyes and smile. And tell them how much their momma loves them.
This blog is all about how I am using movement, awareness, community, and a good sense of humor to navigate our IVF journey to parenthood. Our experience may not be unique, but maybe the tools that we have used to get through the valleys and mountains will help another couple/mother on the same roller coaster.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Story telling
After years of trying to conceive and multiple miscarriages I developed a story that my body cannot support a full-term pregnancy. There has always been a tiny voice that would softly whisper that this story was not true and I focused quite a bit of healing work trusting that voice. I slowly soothed my sadness. I worked on healing my physical self, the entire time working from the assumption that the tiny whisper was my truth and opting to ignore the story being shouted at me. The words "I cannot be pregnant" would resonate louder with each pregnancy loss but I clasped on to the whisper of "yes, I can" like a life line.
The story of not being able to carry a full-term pregnancy ran as deep in my body as my desire to be a mom. It was not until the beginning of last week that I was able to exhale and release the story. Yes. It took 36 weeks of carrying twins before I was able to release and let go. Up until last week I had been holding my breath, wondering when the loss would occur. I hyper-analyzed every movement from the babies, every change in symptom in a fear-driven desire to prevent impending catastrophe. The story of "the body that cannot" was kept smoldering with various complications like the hemorrhage early in the pregnancy and the bleeding/pre-term labor at week 32.
I remember being in the hospital at week 32, bleeding and overcome by fear. I remember thinking this was going to be the moment of my body letting me down, delivering my babies too early, and that we would be facing incredible loss and sadness. I also remember Pete standing next to me, holding my hand and stroking my hair, telling me that I was okay. That the babies were okay. We set goals together and as we hit each of them, he kept the focus on how my body was doing exactly what we needed it to do for the babies to stay in for a while longer. With his help I was able to start confronting the conflict between the story and my truth. The babies were thriving. I did not deliver them early. I was released from the hospital despite the initial prognosis of emergency c-section and then possibly staying there for weeks. I did it.
In the USA, over half of twin pregnancies are delivered before week 36 and weigh around 5 pounds on average. I am sitting here at 37 weeks, with my laptop balanced on my 47+ cm belly, typing this blog. When the babies were measured for growth 5 weeks ago they were 5 lbs and today we find out how big they are (we're betting 6 to 6.5 lbs). Last week my cervix was still high, closed, and without pressure behind it. And two weeks ago, when they were evaluating the health of the babies with ultrasound, each baby had more fluid than what they usually see for a singleton at the same gestational age. All of this information is what it took to finally let go of the story of impending pregnancy loss. Not only have I carried my twins to full-term, but they have thrived in my womb. I have listened to my body and the advice of my care providers and here I am, days away from meeting my babies.
I sit here, newly released from the burden of that story, facing the next phase of motherhood. The babies will be here before I can comprehend. With these two littles I will be working through the story that I am not good enough to be the mom that I desire to be. I will be breaking family cycles and discovering how to be best version of myself as wife and mother. While I am at times terrified that I will not be successful, I keep coming to the knowledge that I am able to change and let go of stories that are not working for me. I have the resources to educate and take care of myself. I have an amazing husband that will be here with me. I have an amazing circle of friends, family, and community to support me. I am not alone.
The story of not being able to carry a full-term pregnancy ran as deep in my body as my desire to be a mom. It was not until the beginning of last week that I was able to exhale and release the story. Yes. It took 36 weeks of carrying twins before I was able to release and let go. Up until last week I had been holding my breath, wondering when the loss would occur. I hyper-analyzed every movement from the babies, every change in symptom in a fear-driven desire to prevent impending catastrophe. The story of "the body that cannot" was kept smoldering with various complications like the hemorrhage early in the pregnancy and the bleeding/pre-term labor at week 32.
I remember being in the hospital at week 32, bleeding and overcome by fear. I remember thinking this was going to be the moment of my body letting me down, delivering my babies too early, and that we would be facing incredible loss and sadness. I also remember Pete standing next to me, holding my hand and stroking my hair, telling me that I was okay. That the babies were okay. We set goals together and as we hit each of them, he kept the focus on how my body was doing exactly what we needed it to do for the babies to stay in for a while longer. With his help I was able to start confronting the conflict between the story and my truth. The babies were thriving. I did not deliver them early. I was released from the hospital despite the initial prognosis of emergency c-section and then possibly staying there for weeks. I did it.
In the USA, over half of twin pregnancies are delivered before week 36 and weigh around 5 pounds on average. I am sitting here at 37 weeks, with my laptop balanced on my 47+ cm belly, typing this blog. When the babies were measured for growth 5 weeks ago they were 5 lbs and today we find out how big they are (we're betting 6 to 6.5 lbs). Last week my cervix was still high, closed, and without pressure behind it. And two weeks ago, when they were evaluating the health of the babies with ultrasound, each baby had more fluid than what they usually see for a singleton at the same gestational age. All of this information is what it took to finally let go of the story of impending pregnancy loss. Not only have I carried my twins to full-term, but they have thrived in my womb. I have listened to my body and the advice of my care providers and here I am, days away from meeting my babies.
I sit here, newly released from the burden of that story, facing the next phase of motherhood. The babies will be here before I can comprehend. With these two littles I will be working through the story that I am not good enough to be the mom that I desire to be. I will be breaking family cycles and discovering how to be best version of myself as wife and mother. While I am at times terrified that I will not be successful, I keep coming to the knowledge that I am able to change and let go of stories that are not working for me. I have the resources to educate and take care of myself. I have an amazing husband that will be here with me. I have an amazing circle of friends, family, and community to support me. I am not alone.
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