Breastfeeding Dessy: Part 2

On our second day at the hospital, I went to the free breastfeeding class offered by the hospital. (This was before my discovery that breastfeeding Dessy wasn't going to be Nipplegeddon like it was with Emmy.) I needed to know if there'd been any technological advancements to make this part of the newborn process any more bearable. Maybe a new iBreast or iBoob Touch that you could buy and swype your way to copious amounts of breastmilk minus the ground beef nipples left behind by the most powerful suckling force on earth: the mouth of a newborn. The Dyson guy should really start prototyping that for his next invention. "After 5,000 breasts, I had it!"

I was the only one in the class birthing my second child, and the only one in the room unaccompanied by the father of my child. The 7 other couples in the breastfeeding class were all first time parents, all so innocently about to get their worlds THRASHED. I'm sure the other moms felt sorry for the mom sitting in the corner with her baby all by herself. (The Good Doctor had gone home to take a shower, with my blessing. I figured he needed a good shampoo more than a refresher on the cross cradle hold.)

The session was decent, and a good reminder of what to expect in the first few days as your body starts making milk. But as the Veteran Nipple Regenerator in the class, I wanted to tell all those moms so many more things. Because one hour isn't going to cover what you need to know about breastfeeding. Especially if you have a barracuda. Emmy was a barracuda. She wanted to suck suck suck. And then suck some more. We weren't sure if we wanted to give her a pacifier, but by hour 12 of her existence, she was plugged right up. That baby wanted to practice her new skill of sucking 24/7 and my innocent nipples will forever be indebted to the person who invented the pacifier.

Here's what I think first time breastfeeders need to know:

1. Breastfeeding hurts like a mother. And it doesn't necessarily get better after the first two weeks like the books say, so don't set your calendar and then give up when 14 days has passed and tiny mounds of ground beef sit where your nipples used to be.

2. Latch. Latch. Latch. It is ALL ABOUT THE PROPER LATCH. The more of your boob inside the baby's mouth, the less painful it is. We needed 4 hands with Emmy--The Good Doctor would help me open her mouth as wide as possible before allowing her to suction herself to my nipple. Otherwise she would just bite on for dear life. She would get the milk; I would die a slow painful death. And if you get off to a bad start and the baby repeatedly latches on incorrectly, it's really hard to recover because the damage is done and it hurts that much more for a longer period of time because you can't heal when the baby is feeding every 2-3 hours on jacked up nipples.

3. Smack is wack. RIP Whitney Houston, I'm taking a quote from you here. You do not want to hear the sound of your baby smacking her lips because that means your LATCH LATCH LATCH is WRONG WRONG WRONG. I remember The Good Doctor used to wake up in the middle of the night when he heard Emmy smacking away like she was Cartman and my boobs were a bucket of KFC. He'd be all, "She's smacking!" As if I wasn't well aware of the carnage her smacking was wreaking on my nipples. Thanks babe, I'll take it from here. He had such a knack for stating the obvious at 2AM.

4. Engorgement = rock hard boobs. They should be the 8th wonder of the world. They will be the craziest body part you have ever seen or felt on your person. Ice packs or cabbage leaves should help alleviate some of the pain and suffering.

5. Lanolin is your BF. Breast friend. Coat those nipples every time after the baby feeds. It won't prevent all chapping, cracking, or pieces of nipple from falling off, but it will help a little. And you will need every little bit of nipple help you can get.

6. Go to a breastfeeding support group. I'm not really a support group type, but it was a Godsend. I went to one meeting and it was all I needed to get my questions answered. It's so helpful because you're in a room with a bunch of other women going through the same experience and you'll get a bunch of answers to your questions. Odds are someone in there has been there, done that at least once, and you get all these helpful ideas and suggestions. It is a must do for any mom struggling with breastfeeding who doesn't want to give up.

7. Lastly, pray that your baby has a big mouth and is not a "clamper" as the nurse observed with a tsk tsk when she watched Emmy breastfeeding with me. Nurse: Oh my, she's what we call a 'clamper'" Me: *grimacing* Emmy: *clamping on for dear life* like she's the dog and my nipple is the rope. The main difference, I wasn't saying, "Get it, boy. C'mon you can get it."

We made it through and Emmy breastfed until she was 9 months old. When she turned into a biter, we mutually agreed to switch to the bottle. Lest I scream in her face one more time.

But now look at her. The Clamper done growed up healthy as a horse.

Breastfeeding Dessy: Part 1

The scariest part of having a second baby, after fears of congenital deformities, disorders, and diseases, was handing over my boobs on a silver platter to be demolished by the relentless suckling of a newborn. I remember what it was like breastfeeding Emmy, those first few weeks of the most excruciating, ongoing pain ever inflicted on the most innocent and harmless parts of my body. Breastageddon would not be an understatement. The end was coming and I was ill-prepared.

"Nipple regeneration" continues to be one of the search terms that lead to my blog consistently. Apparently a lot of people have lost theirs and are Googling ways to get them back. Sorry about that. www.vickynguyen.com does not have the answer to your query. Just more nightmare scenarios involving your nipples falling off.

I have many friends who've told me that it does not get better the second, or even third time around. That it hurts EVERY SINGLE TIME with EVERY SINGLE OFFSPRING. So I braced myself for the inevitable: pain worse than labor, coinciding with sleepless nights, a torn up va-jay-jay and 'roid rage.

BUT, and I mean BUT!!! it hasn't been that bad AT ALL. Days 2-4 you are supposed to start the ritual: breastfeed every 2 hours, on both sides. Now I don't know if you've ever tried doing anything every 2 hours on both sides, but let me confirm to you, it's not fun, covered in lame sauce. And the 2 hours is counted from the time your baby STARTS feeding, to when she's supposed to start feeding again. So it's really not 2 hours. It's more like 1, especially if you have a slow eater who likes to fall asleep between meals.

But, and again, I can't emphasize the BUT enough, after the initial chapping and rawness that comes with this much vigorous attention to your nipples, the pain reached its pinnacle and is now quite manageable. There's the initial pinch when the baby first latches on, but none of the constant fiery shards of glass shooting out of your cracked nipples feeling. 

IT IS THE BIGGEST SURPRISE OF 2012. Talk about Linsanity. This is Niprageous! That sounds racist. But it's not. It's Niptastic! It's Nipmania! It's Nipnomenal! 

Breastfeeding that doesn't hurt this early in the game? Nip-Nip-Hooray! #come on, you know that last one was good.

Dessy Pics

Here are some of my favorites from this first week. It's been VERY difficult to get pics of Odessa awake because she came out a little confused about when to sleep. As in, she's wide awake with her eyes open from 1-5AM and a total snoozer during the day. 

Sorry my posts have been a bit light this week. I hope you'll understand that the ability to blog profusely is inversely proportional to the emergence of a human from your hoo ha.

You think you're tired Odessa?

Mommy loves you so incredibly much. You are my second miracle.

 Welcome home. I'm sure you'll have your first lollipop soon. Emmy's already broken in your parents. 

Parents who love you more than words can express.

Odessa Ruby Has Arrived!

When The Good Doctor said, "We're adding a new member of the family, are you ready for this?" last week, I really took the time to think about what that meant. Because uber late stage pregnancy brain doesn't really allow you to process thoughts more complex than, "I can haz cheeseburger. Now."

But when I committed some brain cells to the idea that we are expanding our family by one human being, one person who will grow into her own person and eventually affect this world in some way, it reminded me once again what a miracle it is to have a baby and raise that baby into someone who is smart, who is kind, who is important.

Odessa Ruby arrived at 12:14AM on 2/12/12. I was wrong in my email to family and friends, because at 19.5 in, she was one inch longer than Emmy, not the same length. She weighed 7lbs, 1oz, 2 oz more than Emmy. But thankfully for me and my parts, her head was nowhere near as ginormous. 

Due Date: Belly Update

Well, my due date has come. And gone. I will see my doctor today for my weekly check up. And she's probably going to say, "When do you want to have this baby?" 

It's a modern marvel that we have drugs now that can make your uterus contract and send you right into labor. Castor oil is the natural, if not always effective way to get things moving. Not all of them are things you want to move though.

But pitocin has its side effects too. (That I'm now wishing I hadn't read because I really don't need to have those things floating around in my head.) Least among them, my super bloated face that couldn't get any bloatier but did after I was pumped full of fluids and induced with Emmy.

I had this hope that the second baby would arrive sooner, faster, and more naturally than last time. But we are heading into the weekend now, and there's some danger to having an overdue baby wallowing in my uterus like a lost protester wandering around Frank Ogawa plaza wondering what happened to all the tents and justice. 

I may have to end this Occupy Vicky movement, with one swift injection. But I'm going to take a long hike first, grab a slice from House of Pizza, and do whatever I can to coax this baby out naturally. I want to experience the breaking of the water (the wind has been broken far too many times to count with this one) and the khee khee kheeeing breaths that I learned from watching lamaze classes in TV movies. I want to tell this baby about how her dad reassuringly told me he packed extra dog pee pads so that if my water breaks, I will have something absorbant to sit on during the car ride to the hospital. Lest any of my membranous fluid seep into his perforated leather seats.

I want to experience the crazy contraction pain the way Mother Nature intended. I want to survive child birth and have my own little war story to tell about how I was getting real in the Whole Foods parking lot when I went into labor and a clerk had to called for a clean up on Aisle 7. I want good material for this blob. You deserve at least that much.

But already this baby is flexing her will and her tiny newly formed muscles. Deadlines and due dates don't mean nothing to Babius. So here I am, waiting to see who makes the next move, and you better believe I won't be pulling anything that will suggest I Jean Quanned this. 

Thankfully no one will try to mount a recall based on my decisions.