Registering for gifts is a comical process to me. Both when we got married and again when we were expecting Lucy, we went to stores, signed up and were handed a scanner. Then we proceeded through aisles of things that were clearly essential to survival. Through the generosity of friends and family, boxes start to arrive filled with all of these essentials and the mind starts to drift back to reality...
"This {insert random item here} is adorable and pink and just so cute but what in the world are we going to do with this?!"
"I knew where we lived when we registered and yet someone I managed to forget that we didn't have an entire extra wing for baby gear."
"You know, it's funny...now that Lucy is here, we really don't need as much as we thought we did of this and why in the world did I think we could survive with only one of these?!"
And it's not like people didn't give me advice but honestly it's different for everyone. We own three bottles and three pacifiers. There is no magic to the number 3, it's just what we ended up having and this number works for me. With only three pacifiers, we are more diligent about keeping up with them because we know there aren't a million waiting in the wings and with only three bottles we are more motivated to wash after each use so they are clean and ready for next time. I have friends who are equally successful at managing their homes with a new baby who have a dozen pacifiers or only 1--different for everyone.
Yes, registries are funny because no matter how hard we try, we don't always know what we'll need until it is upon us. I put bottles on my registry and of all the gifts we received, not a bottle was among them. This didn't phase me in the slightest because I was planning to nurse and figured we'd cross the bottle bridge in a few months once I wanted a little more freedom in my schedule. Well let's just say that this was my expectation--what I registered for in my mind...
When Lucy was 7 days old, I was still in immense pain nursing and Paul said he couldn't watch me like this anymore. He contacted a lactation consultant (who we have since dubbed the Mary Poppins of nursing--she's British and works nursing miracles) and her next available appointment was two days away. We took the appointment and she was kind enough to call us that evening to see if she could offer any support in the meantime. So it's Lucy's life, day 9: we arrive for the appointment and I sit down ready to see what wonderful pearls of wisdom she is going to give us about latching on and such. We told her that in addition to the pain with nursing, Lucy has been fussy and having some gas issues for the last few days but nothing extreme. We fed for a bit, weighed her; fed some more and weighed again. Then she said "I think her latch was definitely a problem but hopefully we have corrected that. However, I think we also have a supply issue." I think my jaw literally hit the floor. I'm sorry, we have a what?! We discussed a bit more and the phrase "supplement the nursing" sent me over the edge and I started sobbing. Yes, I know that there is nothing wrong with formula. Yes, I am aware that a lot of people have used formula and their children are high functioning and thriving. Yes, I know that my gut reaction that formula is inferior to breast milk is wrong. In retrospect, my tears were less about my feelings towards formula and more about my inability to do something I should be able to do. Her increased fussiness was hunger. For the last 4 days we had been saying "I know you're not hungry. You just ate." Well, regardless of how long she was nursing, I was only making half of the amount she needed so she was, indeed, hungry.
We left with the following gameplan:
Keep nursing as normal.. Take a supplement to increase supply.
Following each feeding, pump.
Mary Poppins would call us in 1-2 days to check on us--if my supply did not increase in the next couple of weeks, we would look at formula.
We drove home in tears. And by "we" I mean me. This was my job--my dream job. After a roller coaster journey, I finally got to be a mom and now I couldn't feed my child?! I was so defeated, felt like such a failure and just stared at my sweet baby while tears poured from my eyes. That night I fed her as normal and started to pump while Paul tried to get her to sleep. After quite a while and several different tactics, she had not calmed down at all. Paul came in and said "Maybe we should give her some formula honey, she is just not calming down." While this was a perfectly logical and rational suggestion, to a highly-emotional-recently-postpartum-low-milk-supply mom, this was earth shattering.
People, we did not even own a bottle, remember?! Then I remembered (miraculously) that we had received one in a gift bag when we set up our registry. Somehow I remembered where it was, washed it and also remembered that we had randomly received formula samples in the mail months ago. Not planning to need them, I had set them aside in case someone else I knew did. At this point tears were just freely streaming down my face with no end in site. Bleary-eyed, I stared at two seemingly equal cans of formula. The deciding factor came down to one saying "newborn" on the package and the other saying "0-12 months." Yes technically she fit in that category too, but in my hysteria, if I had to give her something other than me, "newborn" seemed superior. I wouldn't even let Paul give it to her that night because "I'm supposed to be able to feed her!" At one point I remember saying, "She's not going to need me. Anyone can give her a bottle. She doesn't need me!" As we sat in her nursery I told him that no one else was allowed to feed her a bottle--just the two of us. He politely obliged this request and attempted to encourage me.
Mary Poppins called the next afternoon and I relayed the previous nights events. She advised to keep with our original game plan to try to increase my supply and since we were clearly comfortable giving formula, we should continue that after nursing. She further encouraged that there was nothing wrong with nursing and giving formula together for as long as we decide. This was like hearing Just a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go do-own, medicine go down." I was still crying but was greatly encouraged by her words. While I still felt like I was failing my daughter, I was encouraged.
This was certainly not the end of the tears, however. Pumping was only sustainable for so long--once family was gone and Paul was back at work it was increasingly harder to convince my sweet newborn to entertain herself while mommy pumped. The dietary supplement was manageable but we soon discovered that it gave Lucy very painful gas. After all the work, we did increase my supply but still not enough to meet all of Lucy's needs. So we decided that our way of life would be to nurse and then bottle at each feeding. And I still cried....I saw friends and strangers alike nursing their babies with more than ample milk. I was happy for them but envious all the same. Why couldn't I have enough for Lucy? In tears one night, and deep into a pity party of one I said to Paul, "I guess it was foolish of me to think that after our miracle baby and easy pregnancy that I would be able to nurse with no problems, too!" Wow! I knew how ugly this comment was when I said it but typing it takes it to new realms!
Not being able to provide all that Lucy needed really shook my world. I lost all confidence in my mothering decisions (Should I feed her now? Should I change her now? Is she sleeping too long? On and on and on...). I didn't even realize how much it shook me until we had a date night with my mom's group and sweet ladies were there to watch the babies. We arrived, I fed Lucy and then left her with these sweet women. We enjoyed a very nice dinner and she was fine. It was not until this successful childcare experience that I realized that our "normal" was really normal (no air quotes needed)...normal for us. When nursing took this unexpected turn, I felt robbed of something and couldn't see past that.
Now, looking at my sweet 4-month-old daughter, I realize this was about far more than nursing and required substantial processing. About a week into the constant pumping and the supplements I was exhausted. In desperation I said "Lord, please provide me what I need to provide for my child." His response was a very relieved "I'm so glad you finally asked for my help. And I am providing what you need--just not how you thought." The truth was, no amount of my controlling or working was going to change this situation. Nothing I did caused my milk to be low, it just was. While she went a few days without being completely satisfied, she was not starving. I was focusing on my ability, or lack thereof, to feed my child when really I was missing the fact that, on my own, I can't do anything for my sweet Lucy. The only way I can take care of her and meet her needs is by first going to Christ to be filled up. It is only then that I have anything to pour out to her or anyone else.
I was visiting with one of the nursery teachers at church. She shared with me about her own miracle baby. Like us, she wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant and God blessed her with a son. While pregnant, she told a friend how ill-equipped she felt to be a parent. Her wise friend responded "Maybe that's why God chose you for this baby--because He knew you'd need to rely on Him to do it." Whoa. I had to let that sink in for a moment: I can't do anything or be anything Lucy needs without Christ and perhaps He used nursing to keep me on my knees?!
This has also been a very humbling experience. I have passed quite a bit of judgment in my day about other moms and the choices they have made. Perhaps, like my nursing experience, it wasn't their choice at all. Perhaps there are painful circumstances, disappointing details or simple specifics that I do not know. Perhaps God is taking them through a situation that will bring them closer to Him--He loves us each too much to reveal Himself to all of us in the same way. Perhaps I should be more concerned about Him in my life than judging how He shows up to others.
Yes, I'd say this was definitely about far more than nursing.....and just as we settled into our normal with eating, my very attentive (ahem...distractable) little girl is finding nursing to be more of a chore. We're adjusting our plan daily but this has not come without tears (mostly on my part). Tears of disappointment and sometimes frustration and recurrent feelings of failure. But as painful as this is, keeping me on my knees will always be for my own good....and subsequently will be good for LucyBug!
