(Nearly) three months and no tongue tie later...

When I thought about writing this post, the title was going to be "Two months and a tongue tie later." As you can see, I failed in my timing. We also got a diagnosis contrary to what I was somewhat expecting.

A few weeks ago I wrote a post detailing all that we've been through with breastfeeding. Toward the end I mentioned that a lactation consultant thought Little Man might have a tongue tie, but one that no surgeon might touch. The very next week our pediatrician agreed and told us to go see a specialist to find out if anything could be done.

If you haven't heard of a tongue tie, you aren't alone, though I bet you've heard the phrase "tongue-tied." If you want to know more or see pictures, google it, but it basically means there's a piece of tissue or something that attaches the tongue to the floor of the mouth. Unless clipped, it won't let the tongue move as freely, thus causing nursing problems as well as speech impediments.

Some babies have a posterior tongue tie that is harder to operate on, and since I had been told Silas's was not as pronounced I thought maybe this was the case. I knew he had a high palette (sign of a tongue tie) and he tends to lose suction, but his tongue does move out over his teeth, something that doesn't happen with most tongue tie cases.

I went into our appointment with the pediatric surgeon secretly hoping for a true tongue tie just because it would "solve" my nursing problems. (Me, looking for another solution, trying to control...story of my life!) The pain is pretty much gone now, but Little Man is still an inefficient feeder. He just takes so stinkin' long!

Well, that didn't happen. The surgeon said he doesn't see one at all, that Silas is perfectly fine. I know this is great--who wants their child to go through the agony of having something clipped in his mouth?--but it basically means that until Silas gets big enough to figure it out (or maybe never) he will just take his time.

And that has to be okay. I'm trying to remind myself that one day he won't let me hold him for 30 minutes several times a day. I also just have to organize things so that when he takes a long time to eat, I don't get stressed that we can't go here or do this, etc. And besides, he only eats five times a day now, so things are improving!

Now, funny/could have been not so fun story about our pediatric surgeon appointment. After waiting for 20-30 minutes, we were called back. Little Man was weighed, and we were put in a room. Just as the nurse was walking out of the door, the fire alarm goes off. This was not a normal fire alarm. It was SCREECHING, and for people with epilepsy, seizures would have ensued with the flashing lights.

No one moved at first, but finally the nurse tells me we have to evacuate. I get Silas in one arm, his car seat and bag in the other, and we walk down the stairs outside. We trekked across the parking lot because if this was a real fire I wasn't going to be standing just outside the front door with all the other inconvenienced people.

After several minutes, the fire department arrived. I could tell by the length of time nothing bad was actually happening. At least I hope if there had been a fire they would've responded more quickly. The building was checked, and we were allowed back in.

The entire time we were in the building with the insane screeching, Silas didn't make a peep. He was awake, and I did my best to shove one of his ears into my side while trying to put my arm (that was holding him) over the other ear. Apparently that was unnecessary because my son just looked around, frowning, knowing very well that this was taking more time out of our day than anticipated. Thankful for that, and I really hope his hearing wasn't harmed!

A few more thoughts...

Regardless of what I write--a blog post, a newspaper article, even a to do list--I almost always think of something I forgot soon after finishing. So these are a few extra thoughts on what I posted yesterday about breastfeeding.

I mentioned that I'm fighting to breastfeed. There are a couple areas in my life right now where I feel like I'm fighting for things actually, but this is the one related to Little Man (that's our most used nickname for Silas. We also use Crazy Arms and occasionally Grunty McGrunterson or Grunt, for short.)

Back in the midst of the worst part of my postpartum period, my pastor sent me a couple of links to blogs on the Desiring God site. They were related to the so-called Mommy Wars that are rampant in our culture, i.e. constant comparisons and tearing down of one another. Think breastfeeding vs. formula, working mom vs. stay at home mom. They gave me a lot to think about, and I ended up downloading the DG app so I could keep up with more of the blog posts. Turns out, these two posts were part of a series, the final installment more for pregnant women.

In the post, the author wrote about how, in a very small way, there is a connection between a pregnant woman and Christ. Christ gave His body, His life, for us. Pregnant women give up their body for nine-ish months to allow another tiny human to invade and grow. While I am in no way saying the two are equal in magnitude, both are sacrifices. Christ made the Ultimate Sacrifice, and when you're pregnant you are making the big sacrifice of giving up your body. There are also several smaller sacrifices related to diet, lifestyle, etc.

That got me thinking about breastfeeding. I realized that I was still sacrificing my body in order to feed my child. Again, not on the same scale as Christ in any way, but it encouraged me to keep going. It felt good to realize I was making a sacrifice for my child at a time when I desperately wanted a sense of normalcy that just can't be established with a newborn.

So as nursing became even more difficult with setback after setback, I realized this whole thing was going to be a battle. And I decided I would fight that battle, one to two weeks at a time. Yes, ultimately I have a goal of how long I'd like to breastfeed, but it's too far in the future. To stay sane, I just look ahead one or two weeks.

Now, I definitely realize that formula is not the devil and a very good option for babies. I was formula-fed for crying out loud, and I think I turned out pretty well :) But I'm also pretty stubborn and want to give this my all before trying something else. The other night I was talking with Andrew about this whole thing and about how hard it is to keep fighting to feed Silas in this manner. I know I'm not the only mom who feels like her child's nutrition is dependent on her.

Andrew then lovingly reminded me that Little Man's survival is not dependent on me, that if I stop breastfeeding tomorrow, he won't starve to death. And deep down I do know this, I really do. But I think one reason I want to keep trying is because of the connection that has been created between us. I'm not talking about the lovey-dovey bond that some moms gush about when they think about how much they love breastfeeding their child. I didn't start out breastfeeding for the bond; I started because it's cheap. That's the honest truth.

The connection I'm thinking of has more to do with establishing a love for my child through the sacrifice. Contrary to what I thought would happen, I did not immediately fall in love with my child from the moment I saw him. And I know I'm not the only one. I loved him, yes, but I wasn't head over heels. I was probably too panicked to really get there early on. As many of my friends kept telling me, I was in survival mode those first few weeks.

I say contrary to what I thought, because if you know me well, you know that I love children and have spent a pretty good part of my life hanging out with them. I started babysitting at 12, changing diapers well before that, so on and so forth. Last year I even picked up a crying baby out of a buggy at Walmart because his mom and grandmom were dividing up the groceries and couldn't get to him. It just seemed natural that I would fall in love with my newborn baby and love being a mom.

That wasn't the case.

Two months in, I can now say that I am falling in love with my child, more so every day. And through so many things not related to nursing. But in working to overcome so many obstacles, I did create a connection with my baby that I think helped me in those days where I thought, "What the heck did I do? I had a baby?!"

One final thought: when I go play a tennis match in my head over whether I'm producing enough and if I don't pump now will that kill my supply, etc. etc., I try to remind myself that ultimately, God is in control. When someone tells me to try this pill or that method and stress seeps in, I have to remember that if I'm supposed to keep doing this, God will provide the supply...regardless of what I'm taking or if I remembered to do such and such.

And here ends my random thoughts I forgot to include yesterday. Congrats if you stuck with them to the end!

My battle (thus far) to breastfeed

News flash: Delivering a baby is NOT the hardest thing about having a baby...even if you do it sans drugs. And neither is breastfeeding, though the purpose of this post is to complain talk about the troubles Silas and I have had so far. (What is the hardest thing about having a baby? I'm gonna go with the actual parenting part, but more on that and my panic attacks regarding it in future posts.)

While I didn't think nursing would be an easy thing--I knew it would be painful in the beginning--I didn't realize how much stress and frustration it could cause a person. Sure, I've had friends and relatives who've had the occasional case of mastitis, and I've had friends who've made every effort to pump/supplement/nurse to overcome production issues and nourish slow-gaining babies. Because of that knowledge I always said I would try to breastfeed, acknowledging it might not work out for whatever reason.

However, I never imagined my first opportunity to try and feed my child the "natural" way would go the way it has.

From the very beginning the information I received was confusing.

"Your baby hasn't eaten in 24 hours? That's wrong!" -- hospital pediatricians

"Don't worry that your baby hasn't eaten since after the delivery. Not eating in the first 24 hours is just fine; he was nourished by the placenta up until he came out." -- the lactation specialists in the hospital

Like many babies, Silas was a sleepy eater. And like many babies, Silas lost weight in the first days of his life. But he lost more than the pediatricians wanted, so that meant it was time to supplement. The culprit? Possibly slow milk production.

Silas was born on a Thursday night, and we left the hospital Sunday morning. That week we had three visits to the pediatrician and one visit to the free lactation support time at our pediatrician's office. On Monday, Silas was still losing. On Tuesday, he held steady. I was told to pump and use this tube feeder apparatus to supplement after every feeding. On Wednesday, I was given a list of things to try to increase my milk production, including an herbal supplement that would increase prolactin (milk-producing hormone) as well as mammary tissue. On Thursday, we rested. On Friday, we were back at the pediatrician.

At our third visit to the doc, Silas still wasn't on track with his weight. The plan we were given was to continue pumping and supplementing, do a weight check at lactation the following Wednesday and come back the following Friday. (By this time we had replaced the tube feeder with one we could tape to our finger. The tube had a sharp end, and the supplemental nursing system (SNS) worked so much better. It did take forever though...) We were told to supplement after every other feeding.

Maybe it was my panic over the fact that I was now responsible for a human, or maybe it was the stress of pumping, nursing and supplementing--okay all of the above--but I couldn't bear to continue that for another week. I broke down crying and asked about formula.

The new plan: stop pumping and supplement with formula in a bottle. No more stressful pumping sessions, no more worrying over not getting anything while pumping and no more slow supplement gadgets. Before I could even think about "nipple confusion" the doctor said he didn't believe in it. Thankfully things worked out, and Silas never had trouble switching back and forth.

Over the next couple of weeks things got better (still painful, but better). The herbal supplement really seemed to do the trick because I was producing well enough to not need to supplement most of the time. We really only used formula when I needed to get out of the house, we had a sitter and not enough pumped milk or during some "growth spurt feedings" that lasted 45 minutes to an hour and caused me lots and lots of pain. (As of today, Silas hasn't had formula in over two weeks.)

Then BAM. Mastitis. Fever, chills, flu-like aches. And a clogged milk duct. Yippee. I went to the midwife and started on an antibiotic. Three days later I was in the same place. New antibiotic. Finally, relief and things were looking up...or were they? The clogged duct never went away, and I was sent for a breast ultrasound and a visit to a breast surgeon. Instead of draining it, we waited, and it started to dry up on its own.

While at the surgeon's office I asked about another spot I was worried about. It didn't feel like a plugged duct, and due to my family's ridiculous history with breast and ovarian cancer, I wanted an expert opinion. And apparently another ultrasound. At least it came back as "nothing suspicious."

During the next couple of weeks I started taking another herb to try and prevent clogged ducts, along with a probiotic. I haven't done the math, but all of the herbs and prescriptions kept me digging into my wallet quite often.

This brings us up to June 16. I'll spare the details, but I was hit (and rather quickly, I might add) with another case of mastitis. I got on antibiotics again and was better in two or three days. The end, right?

Unfortunately not.

Last Tuesday I was doing some reading about breastfeeding and pain. Apparently, by now I shouldn't be experiencing any pain. So why was I? I headed back to the lactation support time the next morning. It seemed that Silas might have a tongue tie, meaning his tongue was anchored by tissue and couldn't function in a way to nurse efficiently. This would explain the pain I was having and why he still took at least 30 minutes to feed every time. However, it could also be something entirely different.

Not wanting to wait another week for his two-month appointment, last Thursday I went to see a lactation specialist at the hospital where I gave birth. I learned Silas probably does have a tongue tie, but not one that a surgeon would be willing to take on more than likely. (The tissue is clipped, allowing the tongue to move more freely.) Another dead end...with a possible dirt path to the side.

Apparently, the specialist felt like I might have yeast (yes, it seems you can have a yeast infection in the nursing area, too.) So, Silas and I are both being treated for yeast since we can pass it back and forth. More than just pills, creams and droppers of medicine, I have to boil anything that goes in his mouth and wash anything that touches my chest in hot water. And hang it in the sun to dry (sun=natural yeast killer). Yes, I am that girl who is hanging my bras on a clothesline. I'd also like to hang a sign that says "Mom killing bad stuff in order to continue breastfeeding. Please look the other way for a couple of weeks."

And that's where we are. Whew.

I'm giving the yeast treatment two weeks, and on Thursday I'll have Silas's pediatrician check out this probable tongue tie that possibly no surgeon will touch even if we want to. Oh, and I was told to stop pumping and building my freezer supply. And that if it turns out to be yeast, I will need to throw out all of the milk pumped while I was in pain. Oh the agony!

I'm well aware that we can switch to formula at any time. But if you stuck with this insanely long post, you may realize we've spent a lot of time and money to try to continue to breastfeed. For that reason alone I've decided to keep fighting for this.

...though if something else strikes, I may reevaluate.

So for my pregnant friends and those who aren't, breastfeeding is tough. Tougher than society lets on. And tougher than your mom remembers. It's definitely been a battle for this new mommy.