Seriously...

I think I seriously have the most handsome baby ever. More three month pictures coming soon.

A Constant

The picture from my last post me think a lot about my mom. She is such a constant source of love. I hope George will see me the same way.

I love how similar these pictures are to the one of me and George. Love!

My mom (and big brother) and I in 1977.

Heaven in my arms

I am so in love.

It's Not About the Milk

Breastfeeding.  Man, it's been a journey.

Breastfeeding is suppose to be this bonding experience filled with joy and tender moments.  We've had some of that.

We've also had:

2 inverted nipples
1 bad latch
1 low milk supply
3 nipple infections - on both breasts
3 layers of nipple skin rubbed off and infected - on both breasts
2 lactation meetings per week
5 breast pumps in my house at one time or another
8 pumping sessions per day (5 hours per day)
Tons and tons of prescription lactation medication, which caused 3 months of diarrhea
1 prescriptions for anxiety meds
More tears than I can count

Not exactly the fabulous, natural bonding experience I was expecting.

I've never been anti-formula.  I'm still not.  I've never cared how other people fed their babies.  So, why, did I become so obsessed (yes, obsessed!) with wanting and trying to breastfeed George... even through all the nipple infections and such??

I've spent three months trying to figure out the answer to that question.

Finally, I think I might have some part of the answer...

A while back I was out around town with my good friend and fellow blogger Sarah.  We were talking about infertility and our breastfeeding woes.  She nailed it...

She said, "In some ways... didn't you just want to be NORMAL?"

That's it.  It's not about the milk.

I think I have a little post-IF complex.  I remember all those days of IF, just wanting to be like every other childbearing, non-infertile woman.  I wanted to throw away my chart and just have a surprise or even a planned pregnancy.  Meanwhile, I was scheduling surgeries and knowing way too much about my eggs and cervical mucus.  That was my normal.  I thought I was ok with it all... but maybe I wasn't.

I thought the pregnancy healed my IF heart.  But when I was in the middle of our breastfeeding journey, I had that same, gut-wrenching feeling.  You know... the pit in your stomach when you are going through IF.  It was that same feeling.  And it caught me off guard.  I didn't expect it.  At all.

There I was again... feeling out of the loop and totally not normal.  All I wanted to do was feed my baby from my breasts and it was not working.  It was that same feeling I had experienced so many times before.  Totally a different situation, but same emotion.

It brought up a ton of insecurities I had about my ability to be a good mother.  My anxiety also flared up - big time.  It had not been around this bad since before I was pregnant.  I use to get so anxious when I would think about the future -- when I would wonder if we would ever conceive.  It made me so anxious not knowing what was in store.  My anxiety this time was about different stuff... but it felt the same.  Ugh.

I hate being so anxious.

There was one day before Christmas that I was at the mall.  My computer needed some repairs (anxiety inducing stuff there! Ha).  I found myself thinking, "I need to be at home pumping to get milk!  If I don't pump now my milk will dry up!"  I was also out of my lactating medication.  I called my OB's office in a panic about needing more meds.  The nurse asked how my milk supply was doing and I just started crying.  Right there.  In front of the Apple store at the mall.  Like the really bad, sobbing, uncontrollably while holding my baby cry.  She suggested some anxiety meds too... to go along with the lactation meds.  Yes, please.  I knew I needed some help.

It didn't help that when I was at my lowest point in dealing with all this... I had someone mention to me that a bottle fed baby might not know who his mother was... but a baby fed by the breast would.  That is the most INSANE, STUPID thing I have EVER heard.  But I took it to heart.  And it hurt.... right along with my infected nipples.  (side note: I've since discovered that this person is a complete loony who has her own insecurities.)

But in the past few weeks I've turned a corner.  I think the meds kicked in.  My husband and so many of my friends gave me the support and reassurance I needed to get me through this.

I gave up the notion that my worth as a mother is tied to my breasts and the amount of milk I can make. I know that I'm a good mother.  At least I'm trying to be - I am new to all this.  What I feed my baby does not have a thing to do with that.

I've also been trying to actually deal with all my anxiety.  Not just sugar coat it and say everything is ok.  I went to a few different meetings that dealt with postpartum anxiety.  Apparently, people who have dealt with infertility have a higher chance at getting some postpartum anxiety or depression.  Who knew?!  Not me.

I also stopped the crazy schedule of nursing, pumping, etc., that I was doing.  After months of feeling physically sick, I let myself stop the lactation medication.  I admit... it was hard.  I mean really hard.  After a few days of being medication free, I felt better.  Both physically and emotionally.  I wasn't running to the closest restroom anymore.  I also felt like my head was a little clearer - the pressure was off.

My anxiety was lower.  Unfortunately... after going off the meds, my milk was also lower.  In fact, it has almost disappeared.  We started formula.  Which, was actually a relief.  I had been so worried about my milk and feeding George for so long, that when we finally gave him some formula, I felt the largest sense of relief.  It was as if a huge huge weight was gone.  Phew!  The day I dreaded (again - had nothing to do with that it was formula) was here and it went.  He didn't even flinch.  Gulped it down like it was my own milk.

All those hours pumping and pumping and he didn't even notice the difference!  Haha.

So, this is where we are.

I have a happy, healthy three month old, crazy cute baby boy.  For that, I am so grateful.  Will I still have my anxious days?  Yep.  I know myself.  Will I have some regret and need to mourn breastfeeding some?  Yep.  Again, I know myself.  My issues just don't go away in a heartbeat, no matter how much I would like them to or how silly they are at times.

But we are ok.  And George is doing great.  I think I'll go have a glass of milk.  Hehe.  :)

Three months!

How is George already three months old!?!

He is growing like a weed and super fun these days! Lots of smiles and coes! He is almost 13 pounds of cuteness! Love this little boy!