My Life as an African Gypsy

**Take note of the title. This post is intended for female readers, or for men wanting to have sympathy for their breastfeeding wives. There may be more information than you care to read, and if you know me, it may be more blunt than you are used to, so take this as your warning, and read at your own risk.**

I heard so many women talk about the beauty of breastfeeding and the miraculous bonding that happens during the process. I was not deceived. I never looked forward to my darling baby sucking my nipple, and always felt cuddling with a bottle would fill that little bonding need just fine. My reasons for breastfeeding were first and foremost the health benefits for Anaya, and secondly we cannot afford formula, at least not easily. The following is a little of my experience thus far:

Scabs: Some women had been honest, and I was prepared that the first week or two could be painful as your nipples toughen up. (Just a lovely thought, huh?) Sure enough, after only a few short days, I had scabs on my nipples. Seriously? Scabs! On my nipples! Somehow the milk still comes through. Then I had to watch and worry about poor Anaya ingesting a scab as she sucked so furiously, though thankfully, I was able to peel it when it got quite loose. Sick. Let's just say, "Not sexy." Boobs have temporarily lost all sexuality.

Engorgement: Then, your boobs get engorged while they are trying to regulate how much milk to produce. I knew this, but the first time my boob became as hard as concrete, I freaked out. We were on our way home from our friends' house when I felt it. I wanted Jon to get home as fast as possible, and I tried to calm myself. In my rational mind I knew my boob wouldn't explode, but there was this irrational side that kept tugging at me... Good news, they don't explode.

Sleeping with a Bra: It is impossible to be without a bra/breast pads for any length of time. So long comfortable sleeping; we have got to keep these things under wraps. Once again... sorry hubby!

Leakage: There are two kinds of leakage I want to talk about, but I'll put the other one under a different label. Here, I'll just talk about the good 'ol through the breast pad/to the side of the breast pad leakage. To save money, I've been trying the washable breast pads. I have to wear two, but for the most part they work well. For the most part... happily, the other times have been at home, sparing me utter humiliation. I've decided to wear the disposable ones when I go out for any extended period of time, even though they cost $12 or so dollars for a box of 60. When Anaya decides to bless me with an extra hour of sleep in the night, I wake up with two big wet spots on my shirt, making me get up anyway. Can we say embarrassing? Sorry hubby... not sexy!

The Shower Shuffle: No one warned me about this. While a nice warm shower can be good for engorgement, on a day to day basis it is just annoying. So here you are all nice and clean, finally washing off the spit up and diaper cream, not to mention the layers of sweat for those who live in non-air-conditioned homes in the midst of the summer, and you are feeling pretty good... that is until you try and dry off. Your boobs are like faucets! How in the world are you supposed to dry off? If you lean over at all, hello gravity, not nice! After many attempts and much milk on the legs, I've perfected a little shuffle, which eliminates leaning over. It helps, but not completely. After having to yell at my husband to bring me my breast pads so I could even step out of the shower, I've learned to put them within reaching distance.

Appearance (TMI): Wow. It isn't just like, "Oh yay, I finally have big boobs for the first time in my life." Though, in clothes, it does feel a little like that. But naked, no, they are covered in veins, the areola is ginormous, and your nipple is massive. Nope, not just big boobs, big crazy lookin' boobs. Ha! In my opinion, not sexy!

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Anyways, to balance it out a bit, I usually end up laughing multiple times when my ravenous little girl grunts and shakes her heads like she's about to die unless she gets some milk, or when she looks up and grins at me between sucking, or when she burps insanely loud, but doesn't want to quit sucking for a second.

It isn't all horrible, and a HUGE benefit is that you lose your baby weight much faster, and your uterus shrinks back much faster. You may retain 5 or so pounds until you stop breastfeeding, but you get to that weight much faster. I was down 20 of 25 pounds in about 1-1.5 weeks; it was really amazing.

So to all those breastfeeding, or those who have breastfed, hats off to you!

So this title is a bit deceiving, making you think that I had no stretch marks before this day; however, that is simply untrue. My years of puberty left me gifts of shiny little squiggly lines on my hips and inner thighs. It didn’t help that in college I happened to gain some 25-30 pounds and then proceeded to lose it all months down the road. Yeah, that still seems like a little foggy bit in life that I don’t remember, but I assure you there are a few pictures for proof. Anyways, back to this day that I found, ahem, my new stretch marks.

I was 39 weeks pregnant with my precious little Anaya, and up to this point had felt pretty good about myself. I only gained twenty-five pounds during the pregnancy, and while my tummy was large and in charge, it happened gradually and felt pretty normal to me and somewhat cute. I had semi-faithfully rubbed what is called ‘Bio Oil’ on my belly to prevent stretch marks, and had already drafted a letter offering my services for commercials and campaigns, because I was proof this stuff worked; I had no stretch marks! (Okay, I hadn’t really written the letter, but that was my state of mind.) I say semi-faithfully because I had every intention of putting it on once or twice a day, but hello, I am a girl who can’t even wash her face on a regular basis, or take my make-up off at the end of the day, so yeah, semi-faithfully better fits the scenario.

We don’t own very many mirrors, and only have one on lend that is full length. I keep it in the guest room for now, which has odd lighting, but does the job of checking to make sure I look put together enough and that my pants aren’t too tight, leaving weird tightly stretched lines under my booty. This was the mirror I used during my pregnancy to admire my beautiful preggo belly. Oh this mirror of lies! Okay, maybe it isn’t the mirror’s fault and more my own for the lighting issue, but I would rather blame the evil mirror.

Okay, so we are back to being 39 weeks pregnant and I was in the bathroom when I decided to admire my big belly in a tiny little mirror attached to our shower. I had done this before, and while I couldn’t see the whole thing, I could get a glimpse of the glory that was my belly. This being my first pregnancy, I was simply in awe. It was during this observation that I saw what appeared to be some faint marks lower than my belly button. Frantically I went up on my tip toes. There, to my horror, were lots of squiggly lines! They were a light reddish purple. I felt nauseous and went to sit on the toilet, where I could pee, something I did every few minutes, and get my thoughts together.

My husband came in to find me sitting on the toilet with tears in my eyes, rubbing Bio Oil like a mad woman, thinking perhaps the oil could make them disappear now. When he asked what was wrong, I could hardly get out the words: “I… have… stretch marks!” This was followed by a flow of tears that did not stop for a half an hour or more. Once, when my husband asked if I was still crying, I said, “Yes! I am mourning my body!” I knew I couldn’t cry about these things forever, and now that they were permanent additions, I figured I’d give myself a day to mourn them, and then I’d have to move on.

“Have I moved on?” you ask. Not really. I don’t cry over them anymore, but post-baby they seem a little higher than they were, and they haven’t shrunk any, which I think they will. They are now silver-y and not reddish purple, so that’s a plus. Some people like to call them battle scars from pregnancy. Yeah, that doesn’t work for me, or make me feel much better about them. They are what they are, and they are permanent, so there ya have it. I’ll just try hard to get this tummy back in shape and work with what I’ve got. I think of it more as a sacrifice I chose to have my precious girl. It was worth it, but still a sacrifice, and sacrifices aren’t generally thought of as fun or easy.

Let's be honest, parenting is just a big trial and error project as we have this huge job of figuring out our completely one-of-a-kind little kiddos, and trying to raise them to the best of our ability.

This week as we transitioned into a more structured schedule, Anaya found her lungs and her ability to protest. The first couple of days she was still oblivious to this power she held, and went down so nicely for her naps, making little to no noise, and I smiled thinking I had this little angel baby. Then suddenly, with no warning for this Mama, she unleashed the beast. ;)

I quickly referenced the books, and tried various techniques, wanting to ensure I did not create a vicious cycle of Mommy coming in every 5 minutes for 30 minutes every nap time. I really want her to develop the skill of self-soothing and to be secure by herself in her own bed; I feel like that is most healthy. I also need that nap time to get things accomplished around the house, so it doesn't work if I am bound to re-entering the room over and over and over.

I tried the whole 'Baby Wise' letting them cry it out theory... yeah that didn't work for us. I am sure it was less than10 minutes that I waited, but it felt like torturous ages, and when I went in to find my inconsolable sweaty baby girl, guilt washed all over me. Error. I picked her up and tried to calm her to no avail. Finally, after much holding, singing, snuggling, I put her in the sling and gave her a pacifier and she calmed.

Then I tried a modified Baby Whisperer 'pick up/put down' theory. I would listen and try to interpret her cry, and when it turned from a whine to an all out cry, I went in, picked her up until she calmed and her eyes were no longer wide open; then I laid her back down. This worked pretty well, and though I did have to go in more than once, I was hoping for improvement with time. The only problem was, I felt like little Anaya knew Mommy would come if she cried hard enough, so began getting progressively worse instead of better. We went from having 2 rough naps a day to every nap being a struggle. UGH! The second she saw me coming to comfort her, the crying went to a new level of drama. (Seriously? Is she only 19 days old?)

Where I am at now is that I let her cry for about 5 minutes, and then go in and comfort her. She doesn't get quite to the inconsolable stage and sometimes she finds her little fingers and comforts herself, not needing Mommy at all. I did try a pacifier, but she spits it out after 5 or so minutes and obviously cannot put it back in herself, so screams again. Going in to replace the pacifier defeats my reasoning for doing this schedule in the first place, so we're not going to do that. We've had a handful of successful naps over the past two days, giving me hope for the weeks to come. We shall see!

As for Mommy, they have been long days. Since newborns nap about 5 times a day (not including nighttime), if every nap is a struggle, let's say, "No fun!" I think I've cried at least once a day as well. I usually end up laughing at the ridiculousness, but my hormones are whack anyway, and a screaming newborn that I love dearly and hate to see unhappy for one second... yeah, not easy!

Here's to the adventure of learning my precious girl! I love her so much!

Well Anaya is now 2 weeks old, and Mommy feels like we've been doing this for ages, both in good and bad ways.

I am just about back to normal, with most of the soreness having subsided, and the lovely hemorrhoids gone. (TMI, I know, but someone has got to be honest! That is some hard pushing to get a baby out of there!) Breast-feeding is no longer painful, and the cramping from my uterus shrinking back to size has stopped. Hallelujah.

I spent the majority of the first 5 days in bed, taking slow little trips to the toilet or kitchen. I breastfed in bed and Anaya stayed by my side in her bassinet. I had heard the first two weeks should be at the baby's disposal, so Anaya got whatever Anaya wanted. I don't regret this time, though it didn't last a full two weeks.

About 9 days in I realized we needed to started putting some effort towards a flexible schedule. Anaya was not taking full feedings, falling asleep at the breast, sucking for comfort, and taking multiple cat naps, which meant this Mama was getting tired. I blasted through reading 'Baby Wise' and 'Baby Whisperer' and came to the conclusion that we needed to focus on full feedings and order of activity. Anaya needed to sleep, eat, and then stay awake, whereas she was currently sleeping, having some awake time, and then eating, only to fall asleep at the breast.

To make napping easier, I decided she needed to nap in her own room. She did great, but when it came to nighttime, we had a little meltdown. I concluded it was too many changes too fast, so we are continuing to let her sleep in our room for the nights. Feedings are going MUCH better. I make more a concerted effort to keep her up, and with her more structured/longer naps, she seems to be a bit hungrier. She is not a 30 minute eater. I tried, since I wanted to be sure she was getting enough milk, but even awake, she stops when she is done and refuses the nipple. I consider it a blessing that she won't suck, just to suck.

Our late afternoon naps have been a little difficult. Yesterday I let her get too tired, and didn't comfort her soon enough in her crib, so she got beside herself. It was awful for both of us. We finally found peace in the sling with a pacifier, which she had never taken before. What I learned is that I need to go in and comfort her a littler sooner, so she doesn't get to the place of no return.

This morning was our shot to try it out. She woke up crying after a few minutes. I went in and after some cuddling, patting, and shhhh-ing (taking 5 minutes or so), I laid Anaya in her bed, still awake, but this time she had calmed completely down and eyes were tired again, and she fell asleep. I feel like it was a small success. 1 nap at a time! Haha!

So this is my current life. Anaya has become my #1 ministry and all attentions are on her. If I do a good job now, my hope is that our lives together will be structured enough to re-incorporate hospital ministry soon.

(Preggo pictures are a day before she was born at 39wks 5days)

I had my doctor appointment at 9:00am, which is when the doctor checked me and placed the cervix softener. I was about three centimeters at the time, not much more than two weeks before. Her ultrasound estimated her at 9.6 pounds +/- 1 pound. I was previously under the impression that I would have her that day; however, I was warned at that appointment that it could take up to three days! I nearly cried right there, as I had felt mentally prepared to start labor that day.

A little let down, we went to grab coffee and a bagel to distract ourselves from analyzing every little feeling and twinge. Afterwards, we went home and I wanted to take it easy in case anything happened and I needed the strength for labor. Gymnastics was on TV, one of my favorites, so I lay down to watch. At 11:40 I sat up to check my email, and my water broke. It took me by complete surprise. I didn’t want to get too excited, in case I was mistaken, so I decided to lay down a bit more. (Now what I believe happened: http://www.babyzone.com/askanexpert/labor-bag-of-water)

Contractions started about 30-40 minutes later. They were not intense and only 30 or so seconds long, so I figured it was a good time to jump in the shower and blow dry my hair. To be honest, I knew lots of pictures were coming, so I wanted to give myself a shot at looking half decent. ;) Contractions gradually got stronger over the next few hours. We labored at home until about 3:45, when we realized they were lasting 1 minute, every 2 minutes, and we should go ahead and get to the hospital.

My doctor wasn’t there, but they called her immediately, and the nurse took me to measure Anaya’s heartbeat. After lying on my side, to my disappointment, I felt has if the contractions slowed a bit. Thankfully, however, they picked back up again shortly after walking around. When the nurse checked me, I was still only 3cm, and I was frustrated. Though labor hadn’t been difficult up until this point, it had been hours, so I was hoping for some progress.

We got into our room, and I kept walking, squatting, sitting on the ball etc. in order to encourage progress. Jon had forgotten his computer, and realizing my progression was slower than we thought, we figured we may want to watch/listen to a movie to help pass the hours ahead. We agreed I was handling the contractions okay on my own, so it was probably the best time for him to run home, which is only 5-10 minutes from the hospital.

I continued my little exercises and tried to stay relaxed through the contractions. Maybe 15 minutes after Jon had left, I was on my knees, draped over my exercise ball, when my water broke ‘for real’ and pain immediately intensified (see the link above about water breaking). Without ‘call’ buttons for nurses, I quickly went to the restroom and tried to clean myself up to go get a nurse. I was not yet in a hospital gown, and now my dress was wet. I waddled in pain to the hallway to holler at the nurse, who came quickly. She wanted to monitor Anaya’s heartbeat again to make sure all was okay.

As I wondered in my head how I would lay on my side long enough to let her do that, my doctor arrived. She wanted to check me, so without thinking I could, I laid on my back and she checked me. I was 5cm. She said on the next contraction she could stretch me a bit, which would be uncomfortable, but I was all for shortening the process. A contraction and some help from the doctor later and I was 7cm. I felt like I wanted to go to the toilet, so I did and my doctor came along. It was then that she told me, “If your husband doesn’t get back soon, he’s going to miss the whole thing.” I panicked. I didn’t even have enough phone credit to call him and tell him to hurry.

Thankfully, it was only minutes later that Jon arrived. He was obviously shocked by the chaos of everything happening. I had the strong urge to poo, and the doctor said it was probably the head coming down, so she needed to check me again. At this point I was on my hands and knees on the bed and unsure if I could turn over. My doctor assessed the situation, trying to appease me, but needed me on my back. I was 8cm. The next contraction she stretched me to a 9.

It was time to head to the delivery room, one floor below. Thinking my doctor was crazy, I asked her if she wanted me to walk. Yes. She thought it would help the baby come down some more, and the elevator was close. Just wanting to get the baby out, I mustered the strength to get in the elevator, and tried not to worry about the people around.

Walking into the delivery room, I realized nothing was prepared for me. The air conditioners were off and nothing was on the bed. I was angry. My first comment was, “It is SO hot in here!” My fabulous husband made sure the air got turned on right away. I was not in the position to stand and wait for the bed, so I dropped to my hands and knees right there on the tile floor. I am pretty sure I was sporadically yelling out in pain and telling my doctor I had to poo. Everything felt barbaric. The doctor got on the floor with me and asked me which birthing position I had chosen, as she knew I was unsure about laying on my back. I whined that I didn’t know, feeling very out of control. Calmly she asked if I was picking it then, on my hands and knees, which she didn’t mind, but it would be easier for her if I could make it up on the bed.

I decided to get on my back/sit up on the table. There was lots of hustle and bustle around, with the doctor, nurse and pediatrician getting everything ready for Anaya’s arrival. I was ready to push, so we got started right away. I tried no noise/ grunting, but usually ended in a full out yell. My doctor would stop me sometimes and tell me I was out of control and needed to refocus. This was a big help. I wasn’t having regular contractions, so rest times were frequently still with the pain of a contraction. Once, I remember wanting to cry, feeling completely incapable of the task at hand and wondering what they would do if I couldn’t do it.

I pushed for about 30 minutes in total. After some time, the doctor concluded that Anaya had been in the birth canal too long. While initially we had not wanted an episiotomy, and the doctor agreed, it was time for some intervention, and I was not tearing naturally. She gave me local anesthesia, telling me it was just in case she needed to cut a little, but made eye contact with my husband and offered a few hushed words to let him know she intended to a cut lot. I am glad I didn’t know. Sure enough, she cut a few minutes later, but mixed with the pain and chaos, I didn’t care. I believe the doctor could see Anaya’s head, she just wasn’t coming out.

It was at this point that the nurse got up on top of me and started pushing downward right under my rib cage with her full body weight, attempting to help push simultaneously with me to get the baby out, a technique I had heard of, but one that took Jon by surprise. After a couple tries, the doctor made eye contact with me and told me the next push had to be it and not to stop pushing. In fear for Anaya’s safety, I pushed as long and hard as I could, hardly catching my breath in between. She didn’t come out, and I had to breathe/take a break. I was becoming more and more concerned. The doctor switched places with the nurse, got on top of me and started pushing with all her body weight. It was a little surreal, as Jon was encouraging me in one ear, my doctor was jumping on top of me, and I was in the worst pain of my life, screaming the most barbaric noises that had ever come out of my mouth. It was almost an out-of-body experience, as I took it all in, feeling as though it could not be me this was happening to.

Within 1 minute, the doctor switched with the nurse again, and the head emerged. I thought I’d have a better sensation or awareness of this, but I didn’t; I had no clue, just pain and burning. Suddenly my doctor was telling everyone to just stop; stop pushing, stop mashing my tummy, everything. The rest of Anaya’s body emerged, and the doctor removed the cord, which had been wrapped around her neck.

They immediately put her on my tummy. She was lifeless and blue, and I, full of concern, asked the doctor if she was okay. Her response: “More or less.” That wasn’t the most reassuring, but Jon quickly cut the umbilical cord and they whisked Anaya off to receive oxygen and suction. Soon she made her first cry, putting my mind a little more at ease.

The delivery of the placenta and the sutures were painful and accompanied my some more painful wails as we discovered how far down or up the local anesthesia had reached by placing one stitch where none had spread. It seemed to take forever. I had no baby to see, hold or try to breastfeed, and she needed to remain on oxygen on the other side of the room. I was cold and shaking. The pain is still vivid and uncomfortable to re-live.

Once it was done, Jon pushed the nurses to allow me to try and breastfeed before we went to the room. Anaya had been rooting and looking for the breast, so we wanted to take advantage of it. Sure enough, when she got to me, she latched right away. We let her stay for a few minutes, and they took her back to the oxygen. Once they got me into my wheel-chair, which was terribly painful, due to the new stitches, I was finally handed my baby to cuddle and carry upstairs. This was the best moment of it all.

Once we got to our room I didn’t want to give her up, but I was incredibly nauseas and needed a bucket for vomiting. I hollered for Jon, who was in the hallway, and he took her, while I dry-heaved into a bucket. I felt so weak and tired. They got me in bed and gave Anaya back. I felt a bit traumatized, but in love. Anaya was perfect and healthy, breastfeeding excellently.