Information Overload

My sweet daughter came into this world at 41 weeks gestation- enough time to have been thoroughly cooked.  However, she arrived with some surprises that made the ability to eat challenging.*

Nursing was hard from the start. The lactation consultant came to the hospital room on the day she was born and told us that we were both capable of breastfeeding and that it would come together soon.  She didn't sound alarmed.  Then we went home at 30 hours post-partum.

At home, she screamed at me in an effort to latch on, sometimes taking up 15 minutes a side to get on the boob.  We powered through, with my expectation that she was just on the verge of figuring it out.  "She is able to eat and make wet diapers, so she is ok, it's just me having a hard time." I thought this every feeding, so 8-10 times a day for days.

In my delirium of new baby/raising a toddler/lack of sleep I let this go on for two weeks before loading up in the car and going to the lactation clinic, after first getting a prescription for such a service from my OB so that this visit wouldn't cost a million dollars.

This one visit turned into weekly visits, which turned into suck-training with a pacifier, which turned into pumping, which turned into supplementing using a special needs feeder, which turned into surgery to correct her tongue tie and lip tie, which turned into using a nipple shield, which turned into weaning off the nipple shield, which turned into a return to the familiar painful nursing we started out with along with supplemental feedings of pumped milk.

Meanwhile, baby girl was weighed weekly and I did everything in my power to fatten her up, regardless of her poor ability to suck, high palate, and ability to spit up the entire contents of her stomach three times a day.  At six weeks she had gained a whole pound since birth and I celebrated.  (I got chik-fil-a drive thru and sat in the parking lot listening to my audiobook for 30 glorious minutes)

We are making progress! So why the cynicism oozing from this post?  Its because at some point it all became just too much.  Too much talking about it.  Too much pumping.  Too much stress.  Too much time occupying my mind.  Too much information.

Here are just SOME of the titles of the handouts given to me from the ladies at lactation:
Need to Increase Your Milk Supply?
Let's Talk About Galactogogues
Relaxation for the Baby Who Arches
The Calma (propriety bottle nipple information guide)
Baby-Led Bottle-Feeding
Breastfeeding Tips for Babies with Muscle Issues
Posterior Tongue
Suck Training Exercises

Now these nice ladies are wholly invested in the health and well being of mothers and babies.  It is a noble job and an under promoted profession.  My feelings of irritation are not with these women, but with this idea that the right thing to do is to struggle.

One thousand times I have wanted to crack open the container of formula that sits smartly on the counter.  But I want permission.  I still can't seem to grant it to myself.  The approval of friends and loved-ones still hasn't convinced me. Mom guilt is incredibly powerful.  I don't even know where it is coming from, but that doesn't make it any easier to reckon.  I used formula to supplement my first child, then exclusively formula fed for months. I was formula fed starting at six weeks.  My issue is not with formula.  It is my stupid inability to admit to defeat, as long as I can continue to make forward progress with my daughter, regardless of how much anguish it causes me, I can't seem to let it go.  I can't seem to say out loud, "I need a break."

I gain nothing by being stubborn.  I gain nothing by allowing my spirit to become weakened by fatigue and failure.  I gain nothing by denying modern advances in baby care.  I know this.  I know this full well.

And so, anonymous stranger that sits in a library in Tallahassee perusing pintrest and happens upon this post, or beloved devoted reader, or whoever lands here and needs to hear it:

"You have done an amazing thing.  (You have kept a human alive.)  You have earned the right and privilege to let go of whatever that thing is that you keep mulling over in your mind.  Let's do it together."

*My daughter was born with the mildest of issues. I feel absolute gratitude for her health and functioning body.  My heart goes out to all babies and mamas that face life-threatening challenges.

UPDATE:  In writing this I freed myself.  I opened that carton of formula a day later.