Releasing her inner monologue: Welcome to Motherhood, Phase I

It's 7:00 a.m. and do you realize that this is the earliest I've ever posted? I've actually been up still 6:00 a.m. and that might sound early to you considering I do have a newborn (who looks like a 3mth old) but I was on the 2nd shift last night. My loving sister looked at the desperation on my double pneumonia face and took the 1st shift which we can do because currently my daughter is being fed chemicals. Oh yes, you read that right I am feeding my daughter formula and thanking God each and every bottle that I can right now. I've become the lactation specialists new target that they are furiously trying to convert. They even called the house yesterday with there "Your a bad mommy" talk begging me to come back. I remember reading about Amalah's experience with these Lactation Specialist and found it humorous (not because of what she was going through but rather how she explained it) but never thought I would be having to deal with the Lactation Specialist from Hell who tagged teamed me in the hospital. It's amazing how quickly people can make first time mom's feel extremely guilty for not performing a task they feel you must regardless of your physical health at the time.

I nursed Camille about two hours after she was born. I had intentions of doing it immediately following her birth, but after having my blood pressure plumet down to 60/30, I was left extremely weak and unable to even hold her for her first two hours of life (which was so excoriating but we will save that for another time). When I did nurse her, we did great. She latched on and ate for 15 minutes. I had become the Lactation Specialist dream. However all of that would change an hour later when the effects of the blood loss hit and even later on when the effects of the double pneumonia hit. I felt terrible physically and even more so emotionally. That first day did not go as I imagined. After they moved me to the Mother and Baby side, all I could do was sleep while my baby was down the hall in the Family Room visiting with all my friends and relatives. When she would be brought to me, I was so out of it that I couldn't really hold her for long periods of time. I was running fevers all day and every inch of my body was in pain from that and the birth alone. And then, trying to nurse the whole time with a baby who suddenly forget how to latch on. My first night in the hospital I ended up waking up at 12:15 a.m. with the shakes so bad I thought something was seriously wrong. The shaking finally got under control 2 1/2 hours later which was also now time for Camille's next feeding. Let's just say it didn't go so well and I ended up begging to give her a bottle. It's the least I could for this precious child who laid in my arms just hysterical for food. There was one thing I did learn about her in our short time together...she is very laid back and doesn't scream. I now had brought this child to the verge of hysterics all over how she was to be fed. I refused to sit there and tell this precious child that the only form of substances was through my breast come hell or high water. So I did what was best for her and gave her the bottle which she quickly slurped down and there I promised to never do that to her again. The next day the lactation jerks stopped by and I told them about the night. I told them about how my doctors now suspected pneumonia and had asked me to consider supplementing just until I was better. Her response was not full of understanding for this first time mom but rather chastised me for giving her the bottle. She sat with me three times that day and helped force my daughter to eat from me, which she sort of did but the means to make her do it made me cry each time. As they forced my breast inside her mouth Camille would just sit there screaming so strongly and so loudly tears would just run down my face. It ached so bad to see this happen. But, it is what they say was best so I allowed it. I remember later on that day, before the final prognosis on my health was handed down, I sat with my sister in my room. It was just the two of us and it was there I broke down, crying hysterically. I just couldn't do it anymore. I hated breastfeeding. I hated the feeling of it and every second she was nursing I was counting down the minutes it would end. I hated the way she screamed when she came to my breast and how red with frustration her face went. I also hated the guilt that was tearing me up inside for not loving it. For actually considering feeding my child formula. I felt like a selfish mess. You can only imagine my relief when my OB came in, told me the prognosis, and told me to stop nursing immediately. I was very ill, didn't have the immune system to even fight off the pneumonia and needed to save every last bit of energy.

I could go on. And on. But it would make this post more of a novel and all my readers would dose off. So I will leave you with this. I am not breast feeding right now. I can't possibly imagine doing that when I can barely pick up my child at times still. But I am able to feed her and that makes me feel like a good mommy. I am also pumping. I do want her to have my milk and am becoming quite successful at doing so. I do plan on trying to nurse her again, once I'm off all the medications to see if, under different circumstances it goes better. But in the end, I'll do what is best for my baby and nourish her however she feels comfortable.

Now, your prize for reading such a long tangent is the neverending cuteness of Miss Priss: