breast is best (??)

A welcome to motherhood is really a welcome to the moist and soggy world of breastfeeding. Feeding my baby is so much harder than I ever imagined! Two days ago, my lack of skill in the breastfeeding department became sadly apparent when, at the end of one session, I realized everything--everything--was soaked in milk. There was milk in my hair, milk in Lydia's hair, milk all over my bra, milk on two separate wash cloths, milk slathered on both of our bodies, milk on the chair, and (the final indignity) one last milk stream squirted directly up Lydia's nose. Clearly, I need to work on aim.

Things are getting better, though. Sarah (who took Lydia's pictures) lent me her "My Breast Friend," and this handy device has revolutionized our breastfeeding sessions. My Breast Friend is a nursing pillow that you strap onto your waist. I had tried regular pillows and a Boppy (another kind of nursing pillow), but nothing works nearly as well as My Breast Friend. The only downside to this marvelous device is the visual effect; waddling around the house with a giant pillow strapped around my waist, bare chested and still large with pregnancy fat, I look kind of like a hippo in a tutu. My mom, Abe, and I now routinely refer to My Breast Friend as "the tutu." It's just so apt.

The sad part is that I am beyond the point of caring. Lydia needs to be fed every 2-3 hours (I have been pushing it to every 3-4 for the sake of my sanity and sleep), and so when the time comes around for me to shove a nipple in her mouth, I could care less about how I look in the process. My mind zones in with autistic like concentration on how fast or slow (usually slooooooooooow) Lydia is sucking and how long the session will last. Sometimes, for a break in the monotony, I will monitor the tree outside my window for buds and birds. So far, no buds--but there are more and more birds every day. Spring is coming!

And, thankfully, all of this feeding means Lydia is growing! She lost more than 10% of her birth weight before my milk came in, and when I took her to the pediatrician for her first check-up, the pediatrician told me Lydia was dehydrated. I felt terrible. Even worse, the pediatrician told me I would need to supplement with formula to get Lydia back up to speed. I went home feeling like a truly bad mother; I couldn't believe my baby hadn't been getting enough to eat!

Upon returning home, the first thing I did was rip off my shirt and start feeding Lydia. I stared morosely at the bottle of formula next to the bed but couldn't bring myself to use it at first. I just looked at it and felt bad about myself and the whole situation. It took an actual spiritual prompting before I finally reached over and fed Lydia the formula--and then, magically, she calmed down and proceeded to sleep for FOUR hours. That was the first time she'd ever done that. I was a convert. This stuff was great!

Except. Except. I want to breast feed. I really do, and I want Lydia to get the benefits of breast milk. It is just SO exhausting. Last night I was up until 1am completing a feeding that started at 11:30pm, and then I got up at 3am to start a feeding that didn't end until almost 4:30am. As I type this, I'm eying the clock and noticing that I have less than 2 hours until Lydia's next feeding. I can finish this blog, write some of the 25 thank-you cards that still need to be written, shower, eat breakfast, change the laundry, clean the kitchen, OR go back to bed. I think, thanks to my overworked breasts, the bed just might win this one.