Pumping: A Story of Love & Hate

There it is, the dread machine that has come to dominate my days and nights: an Ameda, hospital-grade, double-electric breast pump. We have a love/hate relationship, the Ameda and I; love because it allows me to provide Liam with breast milk and hate because the pumping process is slow and often uncomfortable bordering on painful.

My decision to breastfeed goes back many years, to a time when I didn't even plan to have kids. I always thought that if I did, though, that I would breastfeed because, for a baby, breast milk is Nature's Most Perfect Food. All of the reading that I did over the past nine months (and I did a lot of it, I assure you) only shored up that conviction. The best scientific evidence shows that babies who are fed breast milk have stronger immune systems, score higher on a variety of tests, etc, etc, blah, blah, blah. I knew that breast feeding didn't always go smoothly, and that a rough start was normal for a lot of new moms and babies. I was prepared for a rough start. I was prepared for challenges. I was even prepared to call up those crazy militant La Leche League people (and I say that with all great affection and respect) for help. What I wasn't prepared for was the bruising... or the blood blisters. I wasn't prepared for having a piece of my nipple COME OFF. Yes, a piece came off. Take a moment to consider the horror.

Ugh.

So, there I was in the hospital, biting down on a rolled-up washcloth, tears streaming down my face, trying to nurse my piranha baby while Chris practically begged me to stop. Oh, and having lactation consultants tell me that I just needed to "stick with it". Finally I decided that those folks were just plain nuts and that I would go the pumping route. While it isn't completely pain-free, it's not yet taken off a piece of my breast so it gets two thumbs up from me ;)

I find the whole thing frustrating, though, to tell you the truth. I had a breast reduction a few years ago and, though some of the milk ducts reconnected themselves (yes, they did that-- cool, huh?), my output is quite minimal: a good yield for me is 4 ounces from both breasts. And that's from a 45 minute pumping session. I find it very frustrating that I can soak the sheets and my shirts, but when I'm actually pumping I get a lousy 4 ounces. Oh, and I have to pump in the middle of the night after feeding and changing Liam, because holding him and hearing him cry makes the milk let down. So that just adds to the whole sleep deprivation thing.

I'm going to stick with it for the rest of maternity leave and I'm going to give it a good shot once I go back to work (I'll have to haul the pump back and forth every day) but I'm not sure how that's going to play out. Of course I'm also not sure how I'm going to manage to work on as little sleep as I'm getting now at night. Right now it doesn't matter because I can sleep during the day if I need to, but of course once I go back to work I'll actually need to work-- employers are funny that way ;)

Ah, well, these issues are ones faced by thousands of women every day. They've found ways to make it work, and I'm sure that I will, too. I just want to do the very best for Liam that I can, and figuring out what that means and how to make it happen is challenging. I'm lucky to have the support of a lot of people and I know that will certainly prove helpful to the whole process.

To those who have breast fed and to those who are currently breast feeding: I salute you.

Especially if you ever lost a piece of your nipple in the process.

Kimberley

Our Sweet Baby Boy

Liam Edward Charles arrived 9 September, after 18 hours of labor (two of which were spent pushing-- I've never worked so hard for anything in my life). He weighed 8 lbs and measured 21 inches in length, and was absolutely perfect. Still is :)

Liam's due date was the 8th, and when I went for my checkup the week before I was told that if he didn't arrive by then that they wanted to induce me... on 11 September. I was adamantly opposed to it for a variety of reasons, but when I spoke with my regular doctor on the 8th she addressed all of my concerns and convinced me that it was the right thing to do. Of course, after all of that agonizing over what to do, my water broke at 3:30 am on the 9th. I'd been awake since 3:00 with contractions, but thought that they were just Braxton-Hicks, which I'd been having on and off for several months. Once my water broke, though, the contractions quickly became intense. I woke Chris around 4:00 and we got ready to go to the hospital. By the time we left, my contractions were lasting around 3 minutes and were 1 and 1/2 minutes apart. Yes. I thought that Liam might be born in the car, taking after his Grandpa Charles.

Once we arrived at the hospital, nothing went as I'd imagined. Actually, nothing had gone as I'd hoped/imagined from the minute I woke up at 3 am. What was SUPPOSED to happen was this: I'd go into labor. Chris and I would call my parents so they could begin driving from South Carolina, and then we'd hang out at home during the first part of labor. When my contractions were 5 minutes apart we'd calmly drive to the hospital where I would walk on my own power to the Labor and Delivery ward. The pain would be increasing but I'd breathe through it and, because it was building gradually, I'd have had time to get used to it. It would hurt, but I Would Be Strong and Confident in the knowledge that my body was designed to do this. And, I figured if that failed, I would politely request an epidural ;)

So, here's what actually happened: Chris had to practically force me into the car, as I dropped to my hands and knees on our front porch when a contraction hit. The pain was so intense I couldn't think beyond it, though I do remember that at that moment and at others throughout the evening (before I got the epidural), that I was calling loudly upon our Savior, as in "JESUS, JESUS, JEE-SUUUS!" When we got in the car, Chris drove like a man with demons after him (or a man afraid his wife would give birth in the car) and, when we finally got to the hospital, announced that he was making an executive decision and that we'd be going in the Emergency entrance. I was in no condition to protest-- nor did I want to, at that point-- so I made an inglorious entrance into the L&D ward in a wheelchair.

I tried to keep it together, I really did. I answered questions somewhat politely (though we'd pre-registered online, and I'm wondering what the point of that exercise was, if there were still more questions to be answered) and sat there trying to hold it together. That lasted until the next contraction hit. At that point I was out of the wheelchair and on the floor on my hands and knees, trying to breathe through the pain. At that point one of the nurses said, "Why don't we get you into a room now?", and I, wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth, snarled, "I'm. Not Moving. GRRRRAAAAAAARRRR!!!!!".

I stayed that way for about 10 minutes, with nurses trying to coax me off the floor and into the wheelchair, and me alternately ignoring and bellowing at them. Finally I persuaded myself to move, got into the room and got on my hands and knees in the bed. I heard one of the nurses say, "I've never seen anything like this" (Note: I find this difficult to believe). At one horrible point, a nurse tried to do a pelvic exam and I screamed bloody murder. Pelvic exams are never easy for me and on top of the other pain it was just all too much. In between contractions, I kept apologizing for my behavior, and these Jekyl and Hyde moments continued until I got the epidural.

Ahhh, the epidural. The on-call physician came by, pronounced me dilated to 5 cm, and said that I could have the epidural. Eventually the anaesthesiologist appeared and began explaining, step by step, what she was going to do. Normally this is EXACTLY the sort of professionalism that I want from my doctors, but in that instance all I could think was, "Shut up, shut UP! JUST GET IT IN THERE!!" I'm very happy about the fact that I didn't say any of that out loud.

Blessedly, the epidural quickly took hold and I was able to return to sanity and to my normal wisecracking, friendly persona (I think that's a fair description), leaving behind the pain-induced raving monster I'd become. I was incredibly tired and kept drifting off, talking to Chris in between sleeping.

My parents got to the hospital and I was so glad to see them. It meant a lot to me that they were there (and I was really glad that they hadn't seen me acting like a wild animal-- how embarrassing), and that we got to spend that time together.

Labor dragged on (not that I cared, since I wasn't in pain), and the on-call doctor was replaced... by the one member of the practice that I'd never seen whilst rotating through. Of course. As it turned out, I was really grateful that he was the one to deliver Liam because he had no problem with the slow pace of things (plus, we have a similar sense of humor, which is always nice). I had really been worried that I'd be pressured into a C-section due to a slow labor, but he was totally fine with letting things happen on their own schedule. Eventually, though, I did agree to Pitocin, as I'd been stuck at 8cm for a long time. This helped to speed things up... then I got stuck at 9cm, at which point the nurses moved the bed into the "throne" position in the hopes that gravity would help. Which it did.

Time out: I can't say enough glowing things about the nurses. They were absolutely amazing, very professional and possessed true caring spirits. They kept me clean and comfortable with no hint of distaste, and were genuinely interested in mine and Liam's health and well-being. I am incredibly grateful to them.

Finally it was time to push and my parents went to wait elsewhere, leaving the doctor, one nurse, Chris, and myself to get on with it. Poor Chris. He never wanted to be in the delivery room in the first place, but I'd assured him that there would be a drape and that he wouldn't see a thing. Errr.... Well, all I can say is that, in my own defense, I sincerely believed that to be true. But it wasn't. True, that is. Let's just say that the nurse had one leg, Chris had the other and that both had front row seats for the whole show. Yes, Chris saw all of the bleeding, the crowning, and then Liam actually being born. Oh, and he was absolutely amazing. During the contractions, he kept up a stream of encouragement while I pushed for all that I was worth, and in between he fed me ice chips and put the oxygen mask on me. Truly, I couldn't have asked for a better labor partner.

As I said, I've never worked harder for anything in my life. Afterwards the doctor told me that he hadn't thought that I'd be able to do it physically, given that Liam was a bigger baby and that my innards are kind of small. But, he said, he'd seen that I was determined to do it and he wanted to give me every chance. He did, and I am so grateful that I didn't have a C- section. Of course, what I'm most grateful for is that Liam is here and healthy.

There are truly no words to describe what I felt the moment that they put him, cord still connecting us, on my chest. All I know is that before that moment I'd never felt or imagined anything like it, and from that moment I knew I'd never NOT feel that way, this overwhelming love that feels too big for my body.

Even when I'm changing some truly disgusting diapers and getting peed on :)

I'm going to be pregnant forever.

Ok. So I'm not REALLY going to be pregnant forever (I hope). It just feels that way. I know, I know, Liam's actual due date is tomorrow, the 8th, but still... I've been a pretty good sport about this whole thing (gestational diabetes, crazy heart arrhythmia, horrible leg and joint pain, gross elephant ankles and feet), but am ready to be a single being once more. I feel slightly guilty about feeling this way, but it's the truth. Plus, dangit, Chris and I really want to meet this kid!

I'll get around to some more whining in a minute (that's why you read this blog after all: the high quality whining and snark), but first of all, here's a list of what I've been/continue to be grateful for during this pregnancy:

1) The fact that Liam is, according to every measure they've given him, incredibly healthy-- he was described as "spectacular" by the doctor I saw on Tuesday *preen*

2) The support of family and friends. Our family has been there to listen, encourage, buy strollers and cribs, and give advice, for which I'm truly grateful. Our friends have been extremely supportive (two of them even cleaned our house while we were out of town for a funeral a couple of weeks ago-- do friends get better than that??), not to mention incredibly generous in seeing that Liam is "geared up".

But back to the whining... ;)

1) The relaxin has loosened all of my joints up (a good thing for labor), but that means that they're not giving a whole lot of support at a time when it would be INCREDIBLY HELPFUL for them to do so. The pelvic joint isn't doing much to support the uterus, and my hips aren't helping much, either.

2) At night, I'm waking up just about every hour to go to the bathroom. This is not conducive to a good night's sleep (or a good day's work the next day), nor is it helping with my overall crankiness.

3) Though Liam has dropped, and consequently slowed down a bit, his rolling, kicking, etc, still make me uncomfortable.

4) My sciatic nerve seems to be kicked a few times every hour which makes my legs spaz out and almost drop me to the floor.

5) I've been having Braxton-Hix for months now, but when I was checked I was 50% effaced with absolutely no dilation. What the heck? I was hoping that all of those practice pangs were doing something to move this along.

6) My doctor wants to induce if he isn't here by tomorrow... and she wants to do it on 9/11. My issues with induction aside (the fact that I would most likely have to have an epidural, and that MANY inductions end up in a C-section), I refuse to make the deliberate choice to have my baby's birthday on that horrible day. Can you imagine his having to attend memorial services at school every year on his birthday?? If I went into labor naturally and that happened to be the day, then I would consider it the will of the universe and just go with it. But to deliberately CHOOSE it?? No way. And my doctor's assistant thinks I'm being unreasonable... I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, where we'll discuss all of this.

It's so funny because I never thought that I would get to this point. I'd heard other women saying things like, "I just want this baby out!" and I couldn't imagine feeling that way... Well, now I can-- vividly ;) I'm convinced that it's God's way of helping you come to terms with labor! "Labor? Sure, sounds great! Let's go!"

Whatever YOU'VE been up to lately, I hope it's been fun. Really. I'm not bitter (but you can lie, and make me feel better if you want!)

:)
Kimberley

Well. THAT didn't go well at all.

So today was the first day of the first week of school. I laid out my clothes last night, set the alarm for 5:15 am, and did a few other things to make the morning run smoothly.

A-hem.

I woke up at 7:00 am, somehow having slept through my alarm, and was backing out of the driveway at 7:10 am. I didn't want anyone getting too close to me today as I hadn't had time for a shower (picture a liberal use of deodorant and my Jo Malone Pomegranate Noir-- using the latter of which on an unwashed body felt like the basest sacrilege). I had stuffed my makeup bag and my insulin pen in my purse and made use of the makeup at Atlanta's infinitely long traffic lights. Amazingly, it still only took me about 40 minutes to drive to work, and I made it to my homeroom with about 4 minutes to spare. My girls got a good laugh out of it, and afterwards I went off campus to grab some breakfast so that I could take my insulin. Now, if this isn't a compelling case for why my employer and so many others should just offer paid maternity leave, then I don't know what is! I mean, when you're so tired that you sleep through your ALARM?? Plus, I guarantee you that I was barely coherent for the first hour or so that I was at work so not a whole lot was accomplished. Luckily my day turned around and I was fairly productive (at least, that's how I remember it), but still.

Oh, and can we take a moment to discuss how I have the feet and ankles of a baby elephant? I cannot get the swelling to go down, no matter how much water I drink and subsequently get rid of. I slept with my feet elevated last night and they looked a bit better when I dashed (ok, ambled awkwardly) out to my car, but by the time I got to work they looked as bad as ever. Plus, they don't bend the same way they used to which makes walking even more awkward.

My colleagues are really sweet, and everybody's been telling me how great I look (thanks to the gestational diabetes I've been dropping weight like crazy, which is not altogether a good thing), but I'm just at That Point. You know, That Point where you can't really sleep, or get comfortable, and you just feel hideous. I called my parents on Friday to announce that I Was Done. After smothering their laughter, they explained that it doesn't work that way. I said I didn't care, that I Was Done, and hadn't they been listening?

Please hold the rotten tomatoes. Of course I want Liam to go full-term (especially because he's due on my dad's birthday and it would be SO COOL were he to be born that day), and of course I wouldn't ask for an induction or schedule a C-section for some non emergency reason. I'm just talking trash because I am at That Point ;)

In other news, I got another item checked off my list of Things to Do Before I Go into Labor. I stopped at the friendly neighborhood fire station in Virginia-Highlands and this super-nice fireman installed Liam's carseat (complete with Cowmooflage cover) for me. It was a relief to know that it was done by someone who knows what he's doing AND I watched the whole time and feel confident that I could do it by myself. I'm somewhat of a visual learner, and I learn better by seeing something done than by reading instructions.

Other items remaining on that list include: getting my bag packed for the hospital; planning what will go in the cooler that we're taking (I refuse to eat the stuff they serve in the hospital-- I tried a couple of years ago when I had my breast reduction, and then last week when I had to spend the night because of the kidney stone I was passing-- yes, friends, that was LOADS of fun); finishing the valances in Liam's room (I need to get the apple green ribbon attached); having the slipcovers on the couch in his room dry cleaned; getting together the lists of contact information (2 of them: one a list of folks who want to be notified when I go into labor, and one of folks who want to know when Liam's born), and several other things that I can't remember at the moment. I've just about given up on accomplishing the housecleaning tasks I outlined in my post before last, as I think they're not going to happen. At this point I'll be thrilled if there isn't dog hair all over the floor and two inches of dust on everything :)

Well, it's off to bed for me. Here's hoping that I don't sleep through the alarm again!
Kimberley

Ho-hum and Wooohoooo!

Ugh, no update since 14 July, that is just sad. Lots has been going on that I've wanted to share, but you'll read why I haven't in a minute.

My next post was SUPPOSED to be titled "The Shower to End All Showers", about the completely over-the-top baby shower that my aunt and uncle threw for me... but I still have no pictures (hint, hint to the people who DO have them-- you know who you are so send those along, please, when you get a minute. Thanks.) For now, just know that it was amazing and overwhelming and Chris and I won't need to buy any clothes for Liam until he's about 9 months old ;)

While I was visiting my parents in South Carolina for the STEAS, my mom had the distinct pleasure of taking me to the emergency room for what we found out was a urinary tract infection (oh, and let's not forget my dad, supporting me on their deck at 4:30 in the morning, whilst I vomited into a bucket on the way to the car). Suffice it to say, it was just good times all around. As I said to my mom when we finally got back from the ER later that morning, "Wow. Aren't you glad that I came to visit?". Of course she replied in typical Mom fashion, "I'm glad that you were here so that I could take care of you". My parents. Have I mentioned lately how I don't deserve them?

In other news, I found out about a month ago that I have gestational diabetes and have been dealing with that. Just yesterday I began taking insulin twice a day because it became obvious that I could either keep my blood glucose in the accepted parameters, or I could have lots of ketones. Ketones apparently mean that you're not getting enough calories (and the rate that I've been losing weight backs that up) and can lead to ketosis, which can be bad for the baby. The other issue that was REALLY plaguing me was my heart arrhythmia. This is a condition that I've had all my life, and that I never really notice 1) because I gave up caffeine almost 10 years ago, and 2) because I've had some success with stress management... ok, a little success ;) The point is that carrying Liam has naturally made my heart work harder, and it obviously resented that and is bucking for a pay raise!

The latest physical challenge has been the nasty upper respiratory infection that seized me last weekend. I have a nasty cough, and an even worse ear infection that is painful and has rendered me unable to hear out of one ear. It's also thrown my balance off, and I've just been waiting for someone to call DSS to report the drunken pregnant woman who is lurching down the Whole Foods aisle. The doctor prescribed a ZPac, and that leads me to our discussion topic: ZPacs. They are utterly worthless, do absolutely nothing, and yet doctors keep prescribing them. Discuss amongst yourselves.
Another doctor in that same practice prescribed Omnicef, God bless him, and I'm hoping that will actually DO something to solve the problem.

So, that's the "Ho-hum" part of the post. Now for the "Wooohooo!" part.

(Is anybody still reading this? I don't blame you if you gave up and went to read something cheerful and uplifting like Bleak House instead. Really.)

I'm really excited because tomorrow morning I'm headed to Borders to pick up my reserved copy of Breaking Dawn!



This is the fourth and final installment of Stephenie Meyer's immensely popular Twilight series, which focuses on the love story and trials and tribulations of Bella Swan, human, and Edward Cullen, vegetarian vampire (he and his vampire family only drink animal blood, believing that killing humans is wrong). I, along with the teenaged girls at the school where I work, have been obsessed with this series for years! There are thousands of midnight release parties being held tonight all over America, and I would LOVE to go to one (I had lots of fun at the midnight release party for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows last year, thank you very much. See below:



Errr, question: do I have to stop doing this stuff now that I'm going to be someone's mom? Would it just be wrong to continue? Someone please consult the handbook and let me know. Another question: May we just ignore how round my face is in that picture? Thanks, I knew that I could count on you to do the right thing.)

Where was I? Oh, right. I just don't feel up to going to a midnight release party so I'm going to nip off to the bookstore tomorrow morning, get my copy, and come home to read all the 700 odd pages of deliciousness.

Now, that was an update worth waiting for, right? Right??

Have a great weekend,
Kimberley

The things I have done, and the things I have left undone

So it's official: my last day of work until 11 August was on Friday so I'm on vacation, wooohoooo!

Last summer after my vacation started I was all about the home improvement projects, the crowning jewel of which was my bathroom ceiling's makeover. It was covered in that popcorn stuff, and was molded on the part above the shower, eeewwww :( All attempts at cleaning the mold had failed miserably, so my only choice was to re-do the whole thing. You can read more about the saga here http://tallulahhouse.blogspot.com/2007/07/ohhhh-pain.html and here http://tallulahhouse.blogspot.com/2007/07/bathroom-ceiling-project-finished.html , if you're so inclined.

So my plans for this summer (I began plotting them last fall) included adding crown molding-- painted a glossy black to complement the colour scheme-- to the bathroom; patching, sanding, and painting the kitchen ceiling; and painting our bedroom (sorry, sweetie, but I'm tired of the lavender).

Well... after Liam made his presence known (http://tallulahhouse.blogspot.com/2008/03/surprise.html), my plans obviously had to change, as being on ladders, etc, is not so much a good idea when one is seven months along.

So I've scaled back. Here's is my revised to-do list:

*Finish the nursery. I know, I know, it ought to have been finished quite a while back, but between converting it from my sitting room to packing up some of my things to make room for Liam's, the whole process has taken longer than expected.

*Re-organize the pantry. Honestly, it's out of control! Everytime I walk in there the clutter freaks me out and I run out again. However, it's just going to keep bothering me (and getting worse) until I fix it, so fix it I shall!

*Continue to de-clutter. This is an ongoing project. Funnily enough, I just finished Judith Levine's book Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping (overall, I enjoyed it, although it did feel at times that the author was trying too hard to prove her left wing cred). Many times I found myself saying, "Yeah, that's absolutely true. Right on! I'm not shopping anymore!"
Of course, in the middle of the book, my friend Frances and I headed up to the Premium Outlets in Dawsonville and, well... Let's just put it this way: I got a lot of Christmas shopping done ;)

*Clean the hardwood floors. This is the iffiest of my projects, as I don't find it as easy to get up and down as I used to. Chris and I sweep and vacuum on a regular basis, of course, but as we all know the only way to properly clean a floor is on your hands and knees with a cloth and cleaner.

That's it. It's certainly not as ambitious as last year, but if I get them all done I'll be quite proud of myself.

What projects are YOU working on?
Kimberley

Who minds handwashing...

when the results are this pretty?





And of course you have to see a closeup ;)




Isn't it funny how, when you only buy stuff you love, it all works together? It wasn't until I was through washing these things and put them out on the towel to dry that I noticed how the jadeite cake stand and pink candle tied in nicely :)

This episode of handwashing was brought about by the fact that Chris and I had friends over on Saturday night for a belated July 4th cookout. It was a lot of fun. And when I write "a lot" I mean both in terms of the fun-ness of our friends and the fact that they were at Tallulah House for six and a half hours!

Yes, the guys were doing their Neanderthal thing around the grill (us women are still not sure what that entailed besides standing around and pointing at the various meats, but whatever), and it was almost 9:00 pm before we ate! When we finally sat down it was to a potluck meal of spiced potato wedges, roasted corn, baked beans, roasted Brussel sprouts, watermelon, and of course the meat. For dessert, I offered the option of strawberry shortcake (with blueberries to make it fit the 4th) or chocolate ice cream. After dinner we played Taboo, with teams of men vs. women. Of course we women triumphed ;)

Chris and I plan to extend the barbeques into the fall-- they're too fun not to, and having potlucks means that everyone gets all the fun without a lot of work.

I hope that you had a great weekend, whatever your plans were.
Kimberley