So I've thought a lot about writing this post for the past couple days now. I thought long and hard about how to actually type out the words to show and explain what life has been like since the birth of our second son. The most important thing I thought about, was if I could actually do it? So here it goes...
Our son, Wesson David Henry Armstead, was born on October 29th at 4:35pm. I woke up that morning with minor contractions. I knew that he was going to come that day, but I wanted to wait as long as possible before heading into the hospital. I did not want to be stuck in a bed for 17.5hrs again, like I was with my first son. My mom convinced me to just go in, so later that afternoon we headed down. Needless to say, we barely made it into the delivery room, before our handsome little boy arrived. I didn't even have time to get my epidural, and trust me I was not a happy preggo lady about that! Besides having to go all natural, everything went great. He started nursing right away and we both were healthy as can be.
After coming home things seemed to being going okay, just super fast paced. We got home the day before Halloween, but Barrett (my oldest) stay the night again with my parents, so that we could hopefully get some sleep after a long 24hrs in the hospital. Barrett came home on Halloween and he loved every bit of trick-or-treating, especially the candy part. He was the cutest little cowboy that you'd ever see. The next couple days after that seem a blur. I honestly couldn't tell you what was going through my mind or even how our household was functioning. I was still in that sleep deprived stage and hadn't quite snapped out of it.
As most, of you know I am super pro-breastfeeding and would never image doing anything but that. I always secretly thought to myself, how could anyone not nurse or give breastmilk to their kid(s)? I nursed Barrett for 14mths and everything went great, no issues at all. He loved it and so did I, the bonding was amazing. Don't get me wrong, it was hard at first trying to figure it out, but after the first few weeks it's like I was doing it my whole life. Well, when little Wesson came along our world was rocked. The first week was hard, really hard. I didn't remember it being that hard with Barrett and I didn't remember the horrible pain. Trust me, when I say pain, I mean pain! I literally would cry every time I nursed him. Everything just felt so wrong. It hit me even harder when I was also struggling with post partum depression, something I never would've imaged I would go through. I cried non stop for most of the day, between the horrible pain and depression I felt lost. I didn't know how to be a mom to two boys and I didn't know how to get through struggling with nursing. I wasn't new to either of those things, so I became angry at myself because of it. I should know how to stick my kid on the boob and have no problems. I should know how to be a mom. I should just know, because I went through it and I loved every second of it.
I withdrew myself, a lot. I didn't want to talk to family or my friends. I honestly didn't know how to anymore and worst of all, I didn't know how to be me or who I even was. I doubted everything I said and did. I was embarrassed, sad, angry, and felt totally alone. How could this be? How could I be like this? Everything didn't fall into place like I though it would and I didn't know how to deal with it.
I couldn't believe how wrong everything felt in my life. I knew something was terribly wrong with nursing. We even sought the help of my OB and our pediatrician. They both assured me that everything was normal and that nothing was wrong. I even asked to have Wesson's mouth checked for a lip or tongue tie. We were told that he was perfectly fine and that some baby just have issues breastfeeding.
After two and half long weeks of crying through the pain of nursing and sadly (caution graphic) horrible bloody nipples, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't even pump because of how much trauma my breast had to them. I gave my son a bottle. I cried even more (and I mean hardcore crying). When I say "I" gave him the bottle, what I mean is that my husband gave him a bottle while I hysterically cried. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt like everything I believed in and wanted for my son was just ripped away from me. I was helpless and lost. I told myself it would only be for a couple days until my breast could heal, so that we could start fresh.
After a couple days of the dreaded bottle, I decided we would give breastfeeding a go again. I honestly didn't want to wait anymore because I couldn't stand the fact that he even had a bottle in the first place. He fought it tooth and nail, which made things so much worse for me emotionally. I couldn't get over the fact that he wanted some imitation thing over his own mom. He hated me and I hated myself because of it. My heart literally broke into a thousand pieces and, yet again, I cried more. I decided I would suck it up and go cold turkey and take him off the bottle completely. It took us a couple days of him being super angry, but he was nursing bottle-free. I felt accomplished, but was still struggling with pain. It wasn't as bad this time around, so I told myself to suck it up and get through it.
I thought that this was a huge step in the right direction and that I could finally focus on getting my mental health back in order, or so I thought. After another two and half weeks of nursing he had yet to gain any weight, hardly any wet diapers, and I still had horrible pain. He was angry all of the time and never stopped crying or nursing. I knew that something was wrong, very very wrong. We went to the doctor and he told us that he was just a difficult baby and that everything was fine and that it was okay that he didn't gain weight or have that many wet diapers. I KNEW that this was wrong. I continued to ask for help from any source that I could. Friends, mom groups, support groups, etc.
I was finally able to meet one on one with a lactation consultant who came to my home. The first thing she did was check his mouth. He was tongue tied. I cried. I cry as I type this. It makes me so emotional just thinking about it. I knew something was horribly wrong and it validated that, but more importantly, I cry because that meant that he wasn't able to nurse properly. Meaning, that he wasn't getting sufficient milk. My baby was starving. I was starving him. I starved my son. My husband tells me not to say that or think that, but I can't help it, it's literally burning into my head and I honestly will never stop thinking about it. I was pushing nursing on him, and because of that I literally was starving my baby. As soon as I could I gave him a bottle and again, I cried. Within the next two days my son was happy, calm, and a normal cuddly little monster. He was full. He was eating. He was the most content little boy ever. By this time we had already made an appointment to have a laser revision for his tongue tie (and minor lip tie). The evening after the revision was done I nursed him. I couldn't believe that it didn't feel like a coffee grinder! Don't get me wrong, everything wasn't perfect but it was a HUGE change. The next couple nights were extremely rough. His mouth was sore and I was still struggling with my emotions. He would only randomly nurse here or there and again, only wanted to take the bottle. I had no choice but to pump as much as I could and give my son a bottle. I hated every second of it, but I will never get it out of my head that my son was starving. He needed to eat and if that meant him drinking out of a bottle then I had to do it, I had no choice.
As a mother you want to give you children the best possible, so when someone tells you that you baby isn't getting enough to the point that they aren't even gaining weight, your heart sinks. I don't think I will truly ever get over the horrible overwhelming feeling of sadness that I felt. I could never bring myself to not feed my child. He is the sweetest most precious baby and he's happy, he's truly happy. I can't believe that we were told that he is 'difficult'. Something was horribly wrong and I'm glad that every second of every day that I knew in my heart that I couldn't give up on finding out what it was. A mother knows and without that feeling who knows what wouldn't happened.
Wesson is now almost 9 weeks old, and had his revision for his tongue just over two and half weeks ago. Within four days the cute little chunker gained a whole pound. He's my little piggy, but he has more than earned the right to be one. We still struggle daily with nursing, but I don't want to give up. I know that giving him a bottle is the easiest thing to do in most situations, but to me it was the right thing to do. We both are happier now, I cry a lot less and so does he. I still struggle daily with my depression, but both of my boys are happy and healthy, so I can breathe. I know that things will never be perfect and I know that I will never be a perfect mom, but if I just step back and take a breath than I know things will be alright.
I hope that my story can help other moms know that they are not alone. I didn't understand a lot of the things that I was, and am going through, but it doesn't make me a bad mom. If I am happy than my kiddos will be happy. I tell myself that everyday. I also make a point to let myself know that even though I am flawed in so many ways, my boys love me and I know that they know I love more than anything else in the world. I had to start focusing on what matter the most to me.
I also hope that this all can help mothers judge each other a little less. I know that I am no saint when it comes to that, but by going through all of this I had my eyes opened bigger than I would've ever imaged. I know that being a mom isn't easy and it never will be, but when you throw in extra hardships like what I went through, life can be even harder.
The best advice I can give any mother struggling with this is never stop asking for help. If you know something is wrong then never give up. You aren't alone and the more people you talk to about it the better the situation can become!
I also want to make a point that I could not have gotten through this if it wasn't for the support of my amazing loving husband and family. Even though I still struggle every day, they are there to help me in any way they can. I was so embarrassed to admit I was having problems, but because I did and talked about it regularly I was able to get to where I am today.
Here is a picture of my little monsters on Christmas. They make my heart melt!!
This post was intended for me to be able to tell my story of struggling with nursing and post partum depression. Negative comments are not accepted and will not be tolerated. We all have our own struggles and I hope by sharing mine that I can help others. Please be kind and understanding.
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