I have to ask myself that question constantly. Thanks to the alarms on my phone, I always know what time it is, but the days and the hours all seem to melt together.
My Sister in Law left this morning after spending 4 days with us. Given everything I was experiencing when she arrived, the absolute last thing in the world I wanted was company, but it ended up being ok. I certainly don’t recommend house guests 1 week post partum, but my SIL was pretty fantastic. Her gift to her new niece was a deep freeze for the garage, and she spent her entire visit cooking and filling it with food. Enchiladas, stuffed peppers, breakfast burritos, chicken pasta, calzones… The girl cooked her heart out. It is amazing. Color me surprised.
Nursing-wise, things just suck. And not in the good way. The mastitis is better and my poor nipples have mostly healed, but I’m just not producing milk. I get just under an ounce every 3 hours, mostly from my left breast. Righty had the worst of the mastitis and isn’t showing any interest in cooperating. I started on fenugreek yesterday, and today the lactation nurse asked me to add brewer’s yeast, blessed thistle, and goat’s rue. We’re going to try that for a week and see how it goes. The next step after that will be a course of Reglan if I can convince my doctor. They are attributing my supply issues to PCOS. The gift that keeps on giving.
This is what 25 minutes of pumping with a hospital grade pump (Medela Symphony) gets me from righty. Talk about depressing.
I’ll be honest. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be willing to keep trying if I don’t start seeing some improvement. I can’t decide what hurts more–throwing in the towel, or being reminded every 3 hours that my body isn’t good enough to sustain my baby girl.
I will say this: My medical group spent my entire pregnancy drilling the benefits of breastfeeding into my head. It was inescapable. They never once said, “Some people can’t breastfeed, and that’s okay.” I wish they had. I wish they’d taken just a brief moment in all of that breastfeeding education to discuss what happens when your body just won’t cooperate. This breastfeeding guilt is like an open door that leads straight to post partum depression and anxiety. I barely get the chance to sleep as it is, and now in the moments when I can, I either lie there awake on the verge of tears or I am so riddled with anxiety that I can’t sleep.
Clearly, my body is just not a fan of this baby making business. It didn’t want to get pregnant. It didn’t want to let me keep both of my babies. Birth did not agree with my body. Post partum does not agree with my body. At some point, I’m going to have to make peace with that.
Charlotte, though… Oh, our beautiful baby girl is thriving. That’s really all that matters. She is amazing. She is so happy and cuddly. She hardly ever cries. We are so, so lucky to be her mothers.