Our Breastfeeding journey

I've applied to have this blog put on a new blog roll of parenting after infertility (PAIL), so for those of you who have been hanging on for a while, you're about to re-read some info.... for that, I apologize... I'll try to make it interesting...lol.

The monthly theme post for PAIL this month is breastfeeding.  Being an adoptive mom, I wanted to be sure and get my perspective and opinion out there for other adoptive moms.  Making the decision to nurse is a huge decision, whether you're a biological or adoptive mom.  It was a decision that I knew I wanted to make... after almost 5 years of infertility, there were a few things I knew I wanted to do if/when we ever had a baby of our own and breast feeding was at the top of that list.  It was something that I honestly never thought I'd get the chance to do... until a miracle happened.

On May 19th of last year, we were asked to adopt a baby girl who was due to be born in July.  In addition to all the paper work and preparations, I decided that I wanted to at least try to breast feed.  With our years of infertility under my belt, I'd had plenty of time on the internet researching everything and had come across information about adoptive nursing.  I made an appointment with a very supportive nurse practitioner who gave me loads of information and a prescription for Domperidone.

I went to the health foods store and stocked up on Fenugreek and Blessed thistle, bought a breast pump and started pumping away.  I struggled for five weeks to try and get even the tiniest drop of milk.  Finally, on June 21st, I managed to squeeze out a drop from each breast.  I was ecstatic!  

On June 22nd, my husband and I stood in the delivery room and welcomed our beautiful baby girl into the world.  She was placed in my arms within minutes of delivering and I took a deep breath and together, we nursed for the first time.  She latched like a champ and I sat there in a rocking chair, nursing my daughter.  It was a surreal moment.  

While in the hospital, we used a Supplemental Nursing System to make sure she was getting something and went home excited and and positive and ready to continue our breastfeeding journey.  And then we went to the pediatrician for the first time.  She was not supportive, at all, of an adoptive mother breast feeding.  She actually said to me, "There is no way you will ever be able to produce enough milk to feed her.  You have to put her on formula today." So, not knowing what would happen (in reference to all the adoption goings-on), we felt like we had no choice but to put her on formula.  I still nursed her, but she was on formula about half the time.  

I know I had milk.  She would pull herself off my breast and grin at me and milk would pour out of her mouth.  I never had much success in pumping; I think the most I ever got was about an ounce all total.  But after a round of jaundice, her pediatrician continued to pressure us to use formula.  And we obliged.  

Eventually, her latch changed.  It became extremely painful to nurse and I decided to try and use a nipple shield.  I figured it would be easier on her with going back and forth between bottle and breast.  I didn't realize, however, that using the shield would affect my supply and be our demise.

I ran out of Domperidone when she was almost a month old.  I figured (and hoped) that since we'd been nursing for a month that I would be okay.  I was wrong.  My milk completely dried up in a matter of days.  It was at that point that I had to make a decision.  I had been taking 22 pills a day for over two months and pumping multiple times a day to establish my supply and it wasn't enough.  I was exhausted.  I loved nursing, but didn't know how much longer I could keep it up.  I also had to decide whether or not I thought it was worth it for the baby to have breastmilk laced with medication.  So, I quit.  A decision I regret every day and she's almost nine months old.  

I know that I could have exclusively nursed her if I'd had the support of her pediatrician and if I'd never used the nipple shield.  If I had been my own advocate through it all and fought for me and my boobs... but I didn't.  My husband and I were so afraid that if we rocked the boat at all with her doctor, that it would be seen as our not following medical advice and they'd take her away from us.  So we didn't fight.  And I wish we had. 

Nursing my daughter was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  I felt like it really solidified the bond between us and I think that it helped her really bond with me as her mother.  I think for the rest of my life I will feel a little cheated out of the full experience of nursing her... I will always feel that I didn't fight hard enough or try long enough to make it work exclusively.  But I will also always feel incredibly blessed that I even had the opportunity to nurse her at all. 

The Adoption Details

For those of you new to the party, here's a break down of our whole adoption process.  It was definitely not your average adoption.

Almost 7 years ago, I started working at a jewelry store.  I never really wanted to work there... it just sort of happened.  During my time there, I got married, my husband deployed for the first time, and I stayed home, working for the months he was gone.  In that time, I became friends with one of the girls who I worked with.  We were never super close friends, especially once I moved away, but we stayed in contact, though it was never really consistent.  When all of our fertility issues started, I started a blog and updated it regularly, chronicling our struggles and our journey... being open and honest about how badly we wanted to be parents.

On April 7th, The Husband and I sat down and talked about giving up trying to conceive.  We were coming up on the five year mark of our trying to get pregnant and I just couldn't make it to five years.  I just couldn't do it.  And neither could he.  So, we threw in the towel, I got on birth control, and we made a new life plan that involved no children.  And we moved on.

That May, we went back home for my little brother's wedding.  The day before, the rehearsal dinner, I was at the church helping my future sister in law decorate for the wedding.... there was a lull in decorating and I called the friend from the jewelry store.  We had been playing phone tag for a few months and it was finally a good time for the both of us to talk.  I walked around outside the church and after she sort of hemmed and hawed for a good ten minutes telling me she had something important to say but she didn't know how to say it... she finally said it...she told me that she was pregnant and that she wanted The Husband and I to adopt her baby.  All the pacing I'd been doing stopped.  I stood there in front of the church, speechless.  I dont even remember breathing.

I was absolutely shocked!  I told her that I would have to talk to The Husband and that I would get back to her as soon as I could.  She asked me if I had any questions and I asked her due date... July 5th; a short 7 weeks away.  I also took a deep breath and asked if she knew the sex of the baby... it was a girl.  We hung up the phone, I attempted to compose myself and I walked back into the church.  I called my mom into the narthex and away from everyone else and told her what was going on.  We somehow managed to keep it together and not tell anyone and finished up the church.  We headed back home and I did some more pacing until The Husband got home from hiking in the mountains with our dad's and brothers.

I met the car outside and he knew something was up. We ended up taking a walk down the street and I told him what was going on. His reaction? "Okay". Just like that. When I told him that she was due in about 7 weeks, there was a bit of a pause before he said, "Okay, lets do this. Why did you even ask? You know I've wanted to adopt forever!"

I called the birth mom back and told her our answer was a definite "Yes!" I could almost feel her anxiety and stress and worry lifting over the phone. She had been thinking about this for months and months and finally she had her answer and that weight could be lifted. She told me that the reason she'd waited until this late was because she wanted to make sure she was 100% sure before she even said anything to me; that she didn't want to ask us and then change her mind and break our hearts again. Which, I most definitely appreciate.

So, we set about to telling our parents and our little brothers and their respective partners and a handful of other people and that was it. Everyone was a little shell shocked (as we both were too), and its needless to say, more than excited! We didn't tell any other family members because we wanted to wait until after my brother's wedding so the focus would be on them.  Once the wedding was over, we started making the big announcement and preparing for the arrival of our daughter. 

First thing we did was contact a lawyer and get the legal things started.  We spent weeks filling out paper work, meeting with our lawyer, taking the birth mom to the doctor, having meetings with the social worker, running around like crazy trying to get background checks done, and not to mention shoving 9 months worth of preparation into only a few weeks.  

On June 22nd, we picked up the birth mom to take her to he 37 week check up.  She met us at the car with pillow and bag in hand and breathlessly told us that she thought it was time.  We called her midwife and met her at the hospital.  We walked into the ER at 4:30 pm and at 7:27 pm, our beautiful and amazing daughter came into this world.  The Husband and I were both in the room and I actually helped deliver her.  It was an incredible and defining moment in my life and I was instantly in love with our little miracle.  

The logistics... 

The paperwork was filed with the court system in July.  Our adoption was finalized in October, exactly 90 days after it was filed.

We got her birth certificate from the State Vital records office in January and we are still awaiting her Social Security card... though its been applied for.  Once we get that, we are totally and completely finished with paperwork!  All in all, (if I ever get her SS card), the whole process from phone call to completely and utterly finished should be a little less than a year.

Lullaby

Ticky-boo has her own iPod.  It's actually the very first iPod I ever had that she has inherited since I've moved on up in the world of Apple products and now sport a handy dandy iPhone 4s.  The Husband and I have picked out loads of music and put it on her iPod in the hopes of teaching her about good music and also soothing her to sleep.  Tonight as I rocked her to sleep, Josh Groban's "Lullaby" came across the speakers.  Now, during our time trying to conceive, there were a couple of songs that I couldn't listen to without crying.  That was one of them.

Its been on her playlist since forever, but I've managed to miss it when rocking her to sleep.  Until tonight.  It came on just as she closed her eyes and fell asleep in my arms.  I sang every word to her in a quiet voice and tears poured out of my eyes.  It was a moment that I had unknowingly been waiting for... to sing her that sweet lullaby.

There have been moments in the past 10 months since we found out about Ticky-boo that have really made this entire journey worth it... things that I either never expected I'd be able to do, or things that I never thought would be that big of a deal or things that I knew would be a big deal and they were.  But those quiet moments for just me and her have been some of the best.  Tonight was one of those nights... rocking her and singing to her made me just melt.  That moment took me back to all those nights when my arms ached from feeling empty and my heart hurt from so much pain... I was reminded of what all we went through and why we fought so hard.  And she is so worth it...She's even worth not sleeping...lol

Things no one tells you about being a mom.

I know that I just recently got my Mom card, so I realize that I still have A LOT to learn.  But I have learned a few things in my 8 months...

1.  At some point, you WILL get poop on you.  People joke about this occasionally, but all jokes aside, it happens.  And it is GROSS.  I've gotten poop under my fingernails like twice now.  That is twice too many times if you ask me!  There are times (like this morning's lovely diaper) when you get to wake up to a diaper filled with squishy, nasty, interesting colored (she had blueberries last night) poop.  And it will be everywhere.  Sometimes, a diaper cant even contain the mess.  And you'll inevitably get poop on you.  Dont fight it.  It is going to happen.

2.  While we're on the subject of poop, you will most definitely sniff your child's butt to check for poop... way more than you ever thought you would.  And yes, it is gross.  And no, you cant stop yourself.  It becomes habit.  A nasty, disgusting, habit.  Gag.


3.  You will do things you swore you'd never do.  Its no secret that Ticky-boo is a terrible sleeper.  She used to sleep.  I swear it... although, its coming to the point, that I am questioning that memory... its been so long since she actually slept, were those couple of weeks of blissful sleep all a dream?  Anyway... Ticky-boo is 8 months old and while I expected to not sleep very much the first few months, I kind of expected to be at least getting sleep that somewhat resembled a full night.  However, between the hours of 8 pm-8am our house is a battlefield.  Ticky wages war against sleep and there are many, many nights, when her camp wins out.  Last night was one of those nights.  She slept on her own (after screaming for an hour) in her pack and play until 1:30am.  Then she woke up crying.  I laid her back down and got her back to sleep.  I laid down and closed my eyes and she got back up, crying.  Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Until I finally gave up and pulled her in bed with me.  Again.  For like the 30th night in a row.  I never wanted to co-sleep.  Never.  I never minded the thought of sleeping with a baby in the same room, but the same bed?  No.  Until my baby refused to sleep unless she's attached to me.  I gave in and did the thing I swore I'd never do.  We are a co-sleeping duo as of now.  And I hate to break it to the tiny human that loves to snuggle with me, but it is a habit that Mommy WILL break.  And it will be broken well before Daddy comes home.

4.  There will be times when you feel like an awful parent.  In accordance with revelation #3, I didn't get any sleep last night.  Even when Ticky-boo was in bed next to me, she was restless.  All. Night.  Long.  So when she decided to get up at 6:45, I was beyond exhausted.  I think I was cross eyed and I stumbled down the stairs and made her a bottle.  She sucked it down and then I put her in her pack and play with some toys and I turned the TV on and went back to sleep.  Yep.  I feel like an awful parent.  I know she was safe and she was right next to me, so if she had cried or needed me, I was right there, but still.... I feel like an awful parent.

5.  Sometimes you have to do things for yourself.  Tying in with #4, regardless of my feeling like a shitty parent for letting Ticky-boo play in her pack and play while I got an extra half hour of sleep, I had to do it.  Even though I didn't really sleep or sleep that long, it was extra rest and time to wake up and I felt sooo much better once I got up.  Its obviously not something I plan to do on a regular basis, but I know now that I have to make time for myself... I have to do things for myself to be a better parent.  My new goal is to try and get the baby to bed on her own earlier at night so I can have a couple of hours to myself to read or watch trashy tv shows or to take a bath or a shower or do whatever it is that I feel like I need to do for myself.  Because, I know in the long run, it will help me to be more patient and therefore, making me a better mom to Ticky-boo.

I know I'm not done with my list.  There are so many things people dont tell you about being a parent.  But I think its because you have to learn those things on your own.  No book or blog or doctor or wise grandmother can really and truly prepare you for parenthood.  Its different for everyone and even though we might all have the same experiences, they're going to be different to us.  Things that are significant to me might be unimportant to my best friend and vice versa.  But that's part of the journey... and it is filled with experiences and lessons to be learned and its a wild ride.

Just the two of us...

The Husband has now been gone for a little over a month.  Mom was here when he left and then I headed home with her to celebrate my birthday and just hang out with friends and family for a bit.  I ended up down in NC for about 3 weeks.  I just got back up here a couple of days ago.  I walked in the house and it really hit me that this was it... The Husband was gone for x amount of months and its just me and Ticky-boo.... just the two of us.

It was an odd sort of feeling.  I knew it was inevitable.  Every military spouse who has gone through a deployment knows that before long, it hits you that they're gone and that you're on your own.  I walked through the house and kind of just felt slightly overwhelmed at everything.  When Mom and I left, we kind of just left everything in a state!  Not to mention that while I was gone, the things that we had in storage from San Diego got delivered... so not only did I have a messy house, I had a house packed with random stuff that I have no idea where to put it all!

As I settle back into our home, I am nervous and excited about the next however many months.  I'm nervous because I'm on my own.  I'm totally and completely on my own!  But, Ticky Boo is eight months old, so these next few months are going to be filled with excitement and new developments and I'm so stoked to see everything she's going to do and learn!  She's turning into a little person and she amazes me every day.

I'm also excited because, as it warms up, I know we'll spend loads more time outside taking walks, going to the park, going swimming, and so I know with all that, our time will go by so fast and before I know it, we'll be standing on the pier welcoming him home!

I wish The Husband was here to experience it all.  I try my best to involve him in every way that I can.  He gets pictures every day and I send videos at least a couple of times a week.  Not to mention, when he pulls in port we get to talk on the phone and some times even Skype, so he and the baby can see and hear each other.  But I know its not the same... for any of us.  I'm ready for the day when he can come home and be home longer than a couple of months before he's off again.

Ticky-Boo

Today Ticky-boo had her 6 month well baby appointment... it was only 2 months late (We had major issues getting her on our insurance, but that's a whole 'nother post that is shortly on its way), but at least I got her in...

Her stats:
Age: 8 months 5 days
Weight: 15 pounds 9 ounces (10th percentile)
Height:  25.25 inches (50th percentile)
Head Circumference:  43 cm (26th percentile)
Words she can say:  Mama, Dada, Hey, Bye Bye

The doctor is really pleased with her progress and her development.  She said she's a little concerned with her weight since at 4 months she was in the 50th percentile for weight and weighed 13.6 pounds, so she hasn't gained very much at all in 4 months.  She said since I just switched her formula and she's made such a turn around, that she wont get too excited about her weight until she sees what it is in a month or so.

She agreed with me that it was probably a milk allergy the whole time and she's pleased that all of Ticky-Boo's health issues have cleared up.  She said that there's a possibility that she'll outgrow it once she starts regular milk and is off formula, but once I told her that yogurt and cheese do the same thing to her that the regular formula did, she seemed less sure that she'd outgrow it.  I personally think this is something that we're in for for the long haul, but The Husband is lactose intolerant, so I am pretty used to accommodating.  It definitely sucks that as a huge milk lover, I'm now outnumbered in my house 2-1 with the milk allergy thing.  Oh well, I'll just continue to buy different types of milk... I just cant switch to the fake stuff.  And even if she doesn't outgrow it completely, maybe she'll at least become more tolerant to some types of milk products.  Only time will tell.

She had 3 shots today and did pretty well.  She did have a meltdown of pretty epic proportions, but she calmed down as soon as I picked her up!  So far she's done pretty well this afternoon.  Tonight she seems a little peaked, but I'm hoping she'll sleep good tonight and feel better in the morning.

While we were in her appointment, The Husband called and finally, after quite a few phone calls, Ticky-Boo actually "talked" to him instead of clamming up completely!!!  She'll go around all day saying "dadadadada" but the minute he calls, she shuts up completely!  But today, he finally got to hear her say Daddy!  I was so happy (and I know he was too)!

I have to say, technology today is amazing.  I cant imagine if this were 30 or 40 years ago and he was deployed.  When my dad was in the Navy back in the 70's, my grandparents were lucky to get a handful of phone calls an entire deployment!  Now, we get phone calls and emails and we've even gotten to skype from the different ports they've pulled into!  It definitely makes it easier... on everyone!

More?

The other question I get asked a lot is whether or not we're going to start trying to get pregnant again to give Ticky a sibling.  The answer is no.  Both the husband and myself want nothing to do with trying to get pregnant.  Or even getting pregnant spontaneously.  I really and truly feel that I was not ever meant to carry a child and deliver it.  I just dont.  I've felt that for some time.  I had started to have twinges of that feeling leading up to the IVF, but pushed it away in the name of hope and trudged on.  Once the IVF failed, that niggling feeling that it just wasn't meant to be kept coming back.  After the next miscarriage, it came to the foreground and I started to listen.  Everyone told me it was just grief and that I'd be okay and we'd have a baby, but I knew deep down that they were wrong.  I dont know why I feel that way, but I do.  It just is what it is.

And I'm okay with that.  We spent 5 years trying to get pregnant.  5 years.  That is a HUGE chunk of time.  Hell, we've been married for only 6 1/2, so we've spent more of our marriage trying to start a family than not.  I want nothing to do with infertility.  With the doctors and nurses.  The testing, the blood work, the internal ultrasounds (I lost count after 30 of them), the waiting and wishing and hoping and praying only to be disappointed.  I want nothing to do with the hurt and anger and grief.  We've been there and done that.  And like I said, it was worth it for Ticky-boo, but I dont want to go through it again.

We have 2 embryo's chilling out at the Bourn Clinic in Cambridge and their rent is due this April.  We're not going to pay it.  We're going to donate our two remaining embryo's to medical research in the hopes that they can help find answers for something.

There's a blog I read, its actually the only infertility blog I still keep up with, its called Single Infertile Female.  I dont remember how I found her blog, I just remember stumbling across it and becoming completely intrigued and genuinely interested in her story.  She is a fabulous writer!  Well, she wrote a post a couple of days ago about how her view of IVF has changed.  Her opinion is not one that is very welcome one in the infertility community, but it is an opinion that needs to be shared and heard out.

When you're in the middle of the storm... when you're knee deep in all the treatments and the emotions of it all, you cant see that there might be another side to it.  That there might be a negative to it all.  All you see is what you want... the end result you hope that you'll get.  And in trying to achieve that end result you will defend every decision, every shot or medicine you take to the very end, no matter what.  But once you're through the storm and on the other side, you can see a bigger picture.  You can see what the drugs did to you.

You can see the physical changes made to your body... its 2 years later and I am still carrying around extra weight from the hormones I injected into my body... of course, I'm also carrying around cheeseburger weight, but whatever.  I carry 2 scars from an exploratory laparoscopy and I even had to cut my hair off to get rid of the "hormone hair" that grew during our treatment... it was completely different than my normal hair (and yes I realize all those things are not life altering changes, but they ARE changes all the same).  And lets face it, we have no idea what physical changes can still take place because of all those drugs.

Along with the physical changes come a hefty load of emotional changes.  Just because we're not going through more treatment does not mean we're not still infertile.  Just because we're on the other side and we have our take home baby doesn't mean we dont still hurt from everything we went through.  I still deal with infertility and recurrent miscarriages on a regular basis.  It may not be day to day or even with the flow of my cycle, but I fight with the repercussions of that hell.

Last year, I spent a few weeks in California visiting a couple of my best friends.  One of them was pregnant at the time and had just hit, I think, 18 weeks, and wanted to go for a 3D ultrasound to find out if the baby was a boy or a girl.  I went with her and the moment we stepped foot into the office, I felt my blood pressure sky rocket and my nerves were shot.  I was absolutely terrified that we would walk into the ultrasound room and they would start the scan and find out the baby was dead.  How fucked up is that?  That is NOT a normal reaction to a 3D ultrasound to find out the sex of a perfectly healthy baby whose mother had had a perfectly healthy pregnancy.  I knew in that moment just how messed up I was and realized that we needed to stop what we were doing and heal.  And we did.  We thew in the proverbial towel and took a step back.  We spent a few weeks really talking everything over, I got on birth control and the ultimate plan was to take at the very least, a year, off and then reassess and decide what to do.  In my own mind, I had reconciled myself to living a childless life.  I had decided that I couldn't do the infertility "thing" any more.  I just couldn't.  And a couple of months later we got the call about Ticky-Boo (we plan and God laughs...lol).

And even though its been an entire year since I last took a Clomid pill or went in for an ultrasound to check for follicle growth and its been almost 2 years since IVF, I'm still messed up.  One of my best friends is pregnant with their first child and even though she is almost out of her first trimester, I am still counting down til she hits viability week.  I am still so scared for them that something awful will happen.  They went in for their first ultrasound and I bit off every nail in anticipation and worry until I heard from them that everything looked perfect.  Seriously.  I love them both so much, but dont want to be around them because I'm afraid I'll "rub off" on them and they'll lose their baby.  NOT NORMAL.  And yes, I know that that sounds completely stupid and crazy and rationally, I know that that is not a possibility, but infertility and miscarriages have stripped away a piece of my sanity.  They've stolen a part of me and replaced it with this insane worry wart freak who thinks everyone is going to have infertility or have a miscarriage.  Again, I reiterate... Not Normal.

Here we are, almost a year after our conversation to cease all treatment and give up on the baby thing and while, yes, we do have a child, I still stand by our conversation and my ultimate decision.  I do not, in any way, shape, or form, want to pursue having another child.  To me, its just not worth it anymore.  I dont see the point.  I feel fulfilled by Ticky-Boo and I can say that I dont need a biological child to feel like a mother.  I reached the point where enough was enough and I dont ever want to go back there. Even if we didn't have her, I wouldn't do it anymore.  I've said before that everything... the whole process changed me.  Some for the better, but some for the worse... the worse, the losing a part of myself, that isn't worth it to me.  And I know it sounds crazy and I'm sure a lot of people would disagree and say that once the baby is older, I'll change my mind, and while I have learned to never say never, I feel secure enough in my decision to say never again to IVF or any infertility treatment.  I cant.  I wont.  We gave five years to it all.  There's no need to give any more time or any more of myself.

The crazy thing in all that is that I feel like I will always have to defend our decision to not pursue more children.  I feel like people will think we didn't try hard enough and go through enough to really say we gave it a go.  And I shouldn't feel like that.  I've asked before when is enough, enough?  Is it one miscarriage or ten?  Is it one round of IVF or six?  When is enough, enough?  How far would we have had to go before I felt like I didn't need to defend my wanting to stop?  How much more would we have had to endure?