A Tale of Two Boobs

(Do you mind if I just say boob? Saying breast makes me feel like I'm someone I'm not and we all know what they are anyways. Boob, boob, boob. Is it demeaning? I don't think so. I hope you don't either...)

Disclaimer: I don't know if this even needs to be said, but this really is a post about boobs. Mine in particular. And their newest function. So if me saying boob or reading that breast milk really comes out of them makes you squeamish, I'd advice you not continue. :)

I can truly say I never thought I would write an entire blog post on my boobs. I knew they would become a much more integral part of my life once we had children; that they would sustain said children for over a year. I didn't know our first child would be head over heals in love with them, requesting them vehemently as often as every few minutes whether she needed to eat or not. I didn't know I could love and hate them so much; loving the bond they allow between my child and me, hating the leak stains they leave on the bed sheets, my shirts, the couches. So as much apart of my life that my boobs are now, it seems only fitting they get their 15 minutes of fame on our family blog. So without further adieu, A Tale of Two Boobs.

One of my biggest fears of having a baby was knowing that people would see my boobs. I'm a very modest girl and prefer to keep them nice and covered up where they belong. But knowing the basics of how child rearing tends to work, I knew eventually people would see them. And see them they did.

The second Reagan was born I ripped open my gown. I wanted her directly on my chest and I couldn't have cared less at the time if someone saw anything. My mom laughed at me for my sudden lack of modesty. I had a goal, though, and modesty played no part in it. Reagan had latched within the first 5 minutes of life. It didn't last long, but I felt success! Breast feeding was something I was extremely passionate about, but I had my concerns. I have known many people that struggled with it, and I wanted to give my daughter and me the best chance at succeeding as possible. I desperately longed for the bond of breast feeding, to be able to sustain our child from my own body, to experience such a natural thing.

Our first actual feeding a couple hours after she was born must have been extremely annoying for Reagan as I tried to put everything I had read into practice. No one showed me what to do, so Reagan and I just went off of what little experience I had and winged it. She fussed, squirmed and complained greatly in newborn fashion, but I pushed forward. I was determined! She wasn't latching well but fortunately I had what they told me was a 'great supply' and I could literally leak colostrum into her furiously rooting mouth. I was not discouraged.

We were up most of the first full night in the hospital. She had decided she really was hungry and was desperate to eat, but still couldn't quite latch. She would seemingly get a good latch here and there, only to loose it after a few sucks. After numerous attempts and fails, I finally manned up and asked for help.

Let me tell you- having someone, albiet a nurse, handle my exposed boobs is just as awkward as I imagined it would be.

Between about four different nurses from the remainder of our hospital stay, I got a lot of advice. Sandwich your nipple, make sure she gets enough boob in her mouth, make sure her chin is down, make sure her head and neck are aligned with her spine. Reagan and I managed. She still struggled with latching but between the hours she would spend nursing and me just leaking into her mouth, she ate.

Our Pediatrician (who is amazing and comes to our house! But more on that in a later post...) is also a lactation consultant and really worked with us to find out what our issue was. Turns out our sweet little girl sucks in her bottom lip. She does it so often that while she is nursing, most of the time she will suck her lip in with my nipple which leaves little to hold the nipple in her mouth, thus she would loose the latch. We began literally opening her bottom lip with our fingers when she would go to latch and it has worked wonders!

Reagan got down to 7 lbs, 2 oz which was as low as our pediatrician wanted to see her get, especially since she was jaundiced. So we nursed and nursed and nursed. Reagan was seemingly satisfied between feedings, was peeing and pooping us out of our savings account, and wasn't overly groggy or tired. All the signs that she was getting enough. She was gaining weight slowly, but she was gaining.

I really do enjoy breastfeeding. Even when she wasn't latching well, I didn't get too stressed. When we had learned that her jaundice had gotten worse towards the tail end of our struggles with nursing, however, I did stress out. I had just read that breast milk is the best way to remove jaundice and that if her bilirubin got to a certain level she could get BRAIN DAMAGE or DIE. And here we are told that our 3 day old baby's, who is struggling with nursing, bilicubin levels are even more elevated! And she wasn't gaining weight as fast as she should be. Three strikes against us! My stressing out did nothing but lessen my milk supply, which stressed me out further, yada, yada, yada, insert catch 22 here, my milk supply retreated. Our pediatrician told me breast feeding was 99% head game, and I needed to just trust that my body would do it's job. So I did. And then it did.

It hasn't been a walk in the park but it certainly hasn't been a walk through hell either. The most stressful part about breast feeding, to which I'm sure most mom's will agree, is not knowing how much she's getting. How do I know if it's enough? Well, I just have to trust that my body us doing it's job. And Reagan is a pretty good indicator, too. She is 100% jaundice free, has been gaining about half an ounce a day, and is up over 8 pounds! She (usually) is a happy camper between feedings and still pees and poops like a champion. Through our nursing session, I listen to make sure I hear swallowing, and watch to make sure her jaw is moving as she sucks.

It isn't the sit back, relax and nurse like I expected it would be. But you know what? I am sustaining a human being with milk that I make on my own. What's YOUR super power?