Category: Baby Bump 09

Clicking through my “drafts” folder, I found one dated April 13, 2010. It read:

She quit on me. Just like that. No warning. No advance notice.

My milk supply being what it is (read: SUCKY, pun intended), my days as moo cow ended with little fanfare.

My daughter was eights months old– a full three months older than my son was when he stopped nursing. To this day, I can still feel the the mix of relief, mourning, and failure in those words.

This was the first of an endless series of “my baby’s not a baby anymore” moments. While it was a relief that she took to baby food so well and wasn’t so totally dependent on me for her nutrition anymore, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat despondent about it as well. I planned to nurse each of my children for the “requisite” year, but my milk supply just could not sustain it. I had also planned to have dramatic, but natural birth. Following two c-sections, I loathed my body’s inability to do the very thing it was biologically meant to do– have and feed my children.

I remembered hugging my son a little tighter as I fed him his bottles to make up for the extra “love” I assumed he wasn’t getting because I could not nurse him. I’ve beat myself up for years, blaming my poor milk supply on my tired, fat body, my decision to go back to work, and about a hundred other things.

I had better luck with nursing my daughter, but I think it was because I no longer had that expectation of getting it right… and I had the privilege of staying home. I made my own nursing cover and nursed on demand- everywhere and anywhere, but even that wasn’t enough.

Breastfeeding was painful. It was embarrassing and awkward. For me, there was only one natural element about it and it was  the moments of closeness and tenderness that it brought. Oh my goodness, I was going to miss those moments so much! I loved the “you and me”- ness and having to stop everything to take the time to just focus on one another. Even if I did have to supplement with formula immediately afterwards, I am grateful to have experienced those moments with both of my children.

In looking back on my nursing experience as a whole, I realize now that it wasn’t quantity they really needed. It was the quality.

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This post kicks off the third week of “All About the Bump” Month! Eight bloggers and I have teamed up to spend a whole month to talk about all things moms and babies.

We’ve shared some heartfelt stories and wonderful companies who have help us along the way. Read the other Bump Bloggers stories about their nursing experience here.

I micromanaged and monitored every second of my first pregnancy. I kept track of every tiny development and every kick, pain, or craving. Clearly, a sign that I was going to be SUCH a great mom! (That is, if drafting lists and reading parenting books was all it took.)

I attempted to do the same with my second preganancy, but found myself a bit distracted… you know, with moving back to the US from across the globe, settling in a new place, taking care for my firstborn, and all….

I quickly learned that real life gets in the way of afternoon naps and counting the grams of protein I’ve eaten today. With my husband starting a new job and gone most of the time and a dire lack of outside help, I know I didn’t take enough time for myself or track every new development or change.

How could I? I had TWO little people depending on me for everything- one running circles around me and the other masterminding cravings and mood swings from within. Again, I have no idea why I thought already having one child would make me an expert on having second? If anything, I felt even more the clueless new mom!

So just as I did with my previous pregnancy, I went to the source for everything all things pregnancy and new baby related. “Paging Dr. Google” Umm, not quite…  Of course, I’m talking about Baby Center.

If it wasn’t for the BabyCenter emails that faithfully appeared in my inbox, I wouldn’t have known how for along I was.

Am I thirty-two weeks pregnant in this photo or thirty-three weeks?

(Actually, I’m thirty-four weeks and probably craving a hot dog topped with Cheetos, or something equally as gross…)

I’ll let you in on a little secret. To this day, I still use BabyCenter to track how many months and weeks old my children are and mentally brace myself for their next big “milestone”.

Of course, they used to be sweet things like “learning to coo” or “taking those first steps”. Now, it’s stuff like, “So, your daughter has probably started biting her friends, isn’t she? Here’s how to apologize graciously” and “How to get your son to stop talking about his penis. No, really. It’s all kinds of awesome, but enough already”.

Well, BabyCenter has since taken all of those same great resources– the milestones and helpful tips, not the biting– and spun it into an app for the iPhone, iTouch, and Android.

The BabyCenter My Pregnancy Today app is a daily guide for your pregnancy, filled with smart advice, updates, guides to help you eat well and manage cravings, tracking tools, and of course, to-do lists and reminders. There’s a reason it’s called “pregnancy brain”…

Oh, and the app completely free to download and use. Bonus! Now if only it came with a “way back when” machine so I could have used it two year ago…

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BabyCenter is one of our wonderful “All About the Bump” Month sponsors and I was pleased to have any opportunity to write about them.

Please join us for a Twitter party on Wednesday, May 18th 8-10pm EST/5-7pm PST. RSVP here and follow the hashtag #bumpmonth for chances to win over $5,000 in prizes.  Also, don’t forget about our awesome giveaway happening on all nine bump bloggers sites.

On July 29th, 2009, I woke up early, kissed my first born on the head…

…and left for the hospital with Mike and my mom– sans make up, sans breakfast, and VERY pregnant.

Once we arrived, I was shown to a room where I sat and waited, fixating on my impending c-section for about three solid hours. It was scheduled for noon. By noon-fifteen, I was supposed to have a baby. On paper, it sounded so simple, so easy.

I’ve been through this before (and survived). So, why was I so terrified?

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My first c-section was an emergency. I had been in labor for several hours and pushing for two when my son’s heart rate began to drop. His umbilical cord was pinched beneath his shoulder and the risk of going on was too great.

I wasn’t so hell bent on getting my way that I was willing to risk my child’s life. So when my doctor gently suggested the c-section, I agreed. I was so exhausted and so hungry that the experience just washed over me.

It was my first experience with childbirth. Yeah, I had watched countless episodes of A Baby Story on TLC and heard so many birth stories, first hand. Oh so many stories.

What is it that compels friends and strangers alike to spew every detail of their labor and delivery at them mere sight of a bump?

Yet, when it came right down to it, I had no preconceived notions of how labor should (or should not) happen. It just did.

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This time, I knew exactly what to expect and spent the entire morning fretting over it. The thought of the incision. Knowing I would be fully conscious as it was happening this time. The play by play the doctor and nurses were sure to give me. Having to tell them to “please, stop talking to me”…

My doctor was running late. “Another woman went into labor this morning and he’s just finishing up,” the nurse informed me. From then on, every time the door opened and a new person came in, I would sit up and ask, “Is it time yet? Is it time?”

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My son was born at 7:59 pm CST. He let out three abrupt cries, then looked around the room as if to serenely say, “Okay, so this is where I am now. All righty then.”

I cried tears of joy and relief.  I was a mommy!

My son was whisked off to the nursery with my husband trailing behind, while I was being sewn up.  I think I dozed off. I woke up an hour later in the recovery room, in pain but in bliss.

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At 12:43 pm PST, my daughter took her first breaths along with a primal scream, as if to say, “PUT. ME. BACK.” Or perhaps it was healthy roar to say, “Ready or not, here I am.”

I cried too- mostly out of joy, but also out of fear. This time, I sent my mom to trail after her to the nursery and begged my husband stay behind and hold my hand. I was having a bad reaction to the epidural and my little baby was so mad.

What if I had made a mistake?

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“You’re supposed to love her. You’re supposed to love her.” I kept reminding myself throughout the rest of our hospital stay.

Of course, I loved her, but there was a nagging doubt about being able to love her as much as my son. How could I possible have enough love and patience in my heart for two when I could barely contain the love and patience I have for one?

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My daughter was born my brown eyes, my nose, my lips, and my dark hair, and a brow didn’t unfurrow until she was three days old.  Just in time to leave the hospital.

Then, we brought her home to her big brother and it furrowed again. It remained that way for another three days, which is when her wild discontent…

… finally mellowed to mild concern.

… and eventually, a Mona Lisa smile.

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It’s not entirely accurate to say that I was forced to schedule a second c-section. It was more like I had no other choice.

We had just moved to the Bay Area six months prior. I had a college roommate who lived nearby and relatives an hour away, but certainly no one who could drop everything in the event that I needed an extra week to recover or just need a break.

I was lucky to have help from my parents and Mike’s mom, but only for a set period of time and flights across the country had to booked in advance. Knowing that I would need the most help after my daughter’s birth, my delivery would have to be scheduled too.

Some new acquaintances had suggested a vbac and natural childbirth. My doctor wasn’t exactly against the idea, he just had never seen one go well… I trusted my doctor’s judgement and if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea then I wasn’t comfortable with it either.

Ultimately, I knew a c-section was the best option for me, but what if my due date was set wrong? Since I spent my first trimester in the UK and we were in the middle of moving, all of my dates were just a rough guess, at best.

She was just so tiny- just 6 pounds- and so upset. I wondered if I had made the right decision in scheduling a second c-section.

Maybe I should have kept her in longer. Maybe she really wasn’t ready to be born. Did I really make the best decision?

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I thought having had a first child qualified me to have a second. What could this beautiful soul throw at me that I didn’t already know how to handle?

In a word… Everything.

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I don’t know if my decision was wrong or right, and frankly, it doesn’t matter…

…because if I had it to do over, I wouldn’t change a thing.

My babies are perfect just the way they are, and I love them both the same, which is to say infinitely!

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My daughter’s birth story was written to kick off “All About the Bump Month”, where eight other bloggers and I will be discussing all things mommy and baby. We have some terrific sponsors, fantastic prizes, and an amazing giveaway valued at $1,000! So, stay tuned!

Read other “All About the Bump” Month birth stories from the Splash Creative Media team on our blogs:

• Alison Ray from Sassy Moms in the City @sassymomchicago
• Andrea Fellman from Savvy Sassy Moms @savvysassymoms
• Jessica Rosenberg from It’s My Life @kikarose
• Julie Meyers Pron from Just Precious @justprecious
• Kelly Whalen from The Centsible Life @centsiblelife
• Laurie Cooper from Guessing all the Way @clueless_mama
• Leticia Barr from Tech Savvy Mama @TechSavvyMama
• Whitney Wingerd from Mommies with Style @WhitneyMWS