I had big plans for Eli. Big, granola, plans. You know, mothering the way nature intended. Natural childbirth, strictly breastfeeding, no bottles for at least a month (of pumped milk, of course!), no pacifier, dye free and chemical free diapers and wipes, and on and on and on.
Apparently Eli had even bigger plans. Plans for modern medicine.
I don't have anything against modern medicine, it just wasn't what I wanted for my baby.
Let's begin with going 9 days overdue. People asked when I would be induced. As uncomfortable as I was, I wanted things to happen on their own, so I chose not to be induced until my doctor would have forced it on me (I had 5 days left).
I woke up with my water broken just after midnight on the 22nd. There was meconium in the fluid (baby poop). Doctors don't like that, so I had to go to the hospital right away instead of laboring at home. Strike 1.
After 8 hours of labor I had progressed from 1 to 2 cm. A friend of mine asked me afterward if labor was as bad (painful) as people make it out. My response? Even worse. So much worse. There are no words.
So I finally, heartbreakingly agreed to an epidural due to the fact that it had been 8 hours and I still had so very far to go and I just couldn't handle it anymore. Strike 2.
A few hours later I had progressed a couple more cm, but not much, so in came the pitocin. Strike 3.
I will keep all the rest of the tubes and wires to myself, but I had a grand total of 6 tubes throughout my body, including the epidural. Strike 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8.
Due to the meconium in the fluid, a neonatologist had to be present for the birth. They told me they didn't want the baby to breathe immediately, they wanted to suction out his lungs before he could inhale the meconium into his lungs. That meant I would have to wait to hold him until the neonatologist was done working on him. Strike 9.
Well, Eli was born, and aside from being so teeny tiny (5 lbs. 6 oz) he seemed to be healthy. I was glad it was all over. I felt pretty good that first night. No one warned me about the coming days...and hormones.
Initially Eli seemed to be breastfeeding well, we were getting the latch down, and even though he wouldn't keep the latch very long, the nurses assured me that he was getting enough, he was small so he didn't need a huge amount of food, besides my milk would come in in a few days and we'd be off to the races.
The second night he cried a lot. And I cried a lot. I think every time a nurse came in my room I was sobbing. I felt like a moron, but I couldn't help it. Plus I was alone because Jerry had taken Ty to stay at home that night because that was the best decision for Tyrell at that point.
The third night we were finally at home and Eli didn't sleep too much. He cried a lot. He wasn't peeing and pooping AT ALL, but he was eating every hour. I was still crying. We went to the lactation consultant the next day. He weighed 4 lbs 13 oz. He just barely had scraped by the dreaded 10% weight loss (clocked in at losing 9.5%). She decided he wasn't taking enough in, even though he seemed to be eating constantly. She recommended continuing to breastfeed, then pumping and feeding him by squirting the milk into his mouth with a syringe, using a finger to simulate a nipple. Strike 9.
That afternoon went well.Then came the night. That night he slept for 45 minutes. There was nothing wrong that we could find and he just kept crying and rooting, as though he was hungry. We kept trying to feed him. At one point we decided to put him in his bassinet, thinking he would have to wear himself out at some point. An hour later we decided maybe he wasn't going to wear himself out. I tried skin to skin, I tried swaddling, I tried rocking, I tried white noise, I tried more white noise by turning on the blow dryer and leaving it on for 3 hours. Nothing. I tried not to fall asleep holding him. I considered co-sleeping, even though it isn't recommended for newborns.
We went to the lactation consultant again the next day. I tearfully told her that I absolutely didn't want to give him formula, but if she told me that would make this all better then I would accept it. She assessed him, then bottle fed him formula so that she could see and feel how he was eating. One ounce later he was laying on her lap, out like a light, fat and happy like he had just eaten Thanksgiving dinner. Jerry and I stared in disbelief. He had not looked like that once since he was born. He looked relaxed and content. I had to cry some more. The lactation consultant encouraged us to keep trying to breastfeed, then pump and feed him breastmilk first, and if he still seemed hungry to make up the different with formula. Strike 10.
Two days later I called the lacation consultant because even though Eli had barely cried since we started bottle feeding (praise the Lord! He's content!) he was doing worse and worse at breastfeeding. It was as though he was fighting me. And he was winning.
So we went in again to the lacation consultant (3 times in 4 days) who again tried to get him to breastfeed. She also got out some various contraptions to help him along and that didn't do a bit of good. After a little while she said me (the LACTATION CONSULTANT of all people), "He just doesn't want to do this, does he?" Nope. Not really. Not at all. Strike 11.
We walked away from that appt with the following plan: Don't give up on breastfeeding, but don't kill yourself trying to make it happen. Maybe try it a few times a day when he's really hungry. You never know. But to get food in him, pump and bottle feed and then supplement with formula. Strike 12.
The worst part? He likes the formula better. The formula that I had believed was so far beneath the milk that I produced for my baby. Strike 13.
The pediatrician compared breastmilk to filet mignon and formula to hamburger and asked me which one he'd choose. Apparently I have a hamburgler on my hands.
Do I want my baby to be healthy and happy? OF COURSE!!!
Did I want it happen this way? NO!!
I got over the labor and delivery not going according to my plan. But this formula business? It breaks my heart.
I'm thankful for modern medicine and I'm thankful for formula, and I'm thankful that I live in a time and place where those things are readily available for my baby. But I still don't like it.
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