Moving Forward

E passed her swallow study!!!!!!!!  We are so thrilled that she's making some progress and no longer aspirating.  So what does that mean for little E? Well, it really only means that we can now ATTEMPT to feed her  by mouth. Remember, E has NEVER eaten by mouth. She has had a few swallows from a bottle for her three swallow studies and that's it. We now have the huge task of teaching her to eat. Our first step is going to be an attempt at nursing, all the while still feeding her via the gtube. We'll try this for a few weeks at least. We may try spoon feeding if she is still panicking when milk actually gets in her mouth, just to ease her into the new sensations, then try nursing again. The speech pathologist (they're the ones who actually deal with feeding issues) thinks nursing will help E relax more than a bottle. Praising God that I'm an experienced nurser! If E starts taking some volume by mouth then we will adjust her tube feeds accordingly. As for when the gtube would come out? Probably not for quite some time. If E gets to a point where she takes all her food by mouth, it typically would still be many many months before the gtube would be removed. Because E will be having more surgeries in the future, we will probably just leave it in until those are done with. That way she will not need any tubes put down her throat and in the event that surgeries are too traumatizing and she struggles with eating again, we will not need to redo the gtube surgery. So that's what passing her swallow study means for Miss E. We are praying that over the next few months, she will start nursing more and more.






For those of you that I know in real life, if you'd like her CaringBridge site, just send me a quick email.

The Birth of My Daughter Part Two

Part One

My daughter's birth was certainly not as horrible as it could have been, nor as traumatic as other women's experiences, but was still far from what it should have been.  I knew deep down that I was not happy with her birth, but for a long time I claimed everything went great.  I mean, after all, a healthy baby is the only thing that determines whether a birth went well or not, right?  It wasn't until I started learning more about natural living, breastfeeding, pregnancy, and birth that I finally acknowledged why I tried to never think about her birth.  Hopefully after writing all of this down, I can think about our first face to face meeting with a little less guilt and anger.  This won't be stellar writing (not that I ever write well) as the memories are very choppy.

So we left off with us going to check into the hospital the morning after my water broke.  We got there, checked in, and were put in a room.  I was told to change into a gown and they started making the calls necessary to get my records from my doctor.  I was terrified.  I had not given much thought to birthing our daughter.  I figured we would just take it one step at a time and never researched into anything.  ANYTHING.  So when they handed me a pill and told me they needed to induce me, even though I was having contractions and labor was clearly beginning (though slowly), I did what they told me.  It wasn't until over a year later that I learned that what they gave me, Cytotec, is not only not approved by the FDA for inducing labor, but has been linked to uterine rupture and the deaths of the mother and/or child.  There is no standard dosage which means doctors are just guessing.  It says in my chart that they went over the risks and the fact that this was an off-label use of the drug, but my husband and I have no memory of this.  Even if they had, I don't personally believe that informed consent of this kind can take place while in labor when the one offering the drug is in a position of authority. It infuriates me that they experimented on both me and my child and risked both our lives simply because they were too impatient to wait for my body to do what it needed to do. 

About a half hour after taking the Cytotec, the contractions started hard.  Really hard.  I panicked.  I called the nurse and told her how much pain I was in.  She just shrugged and said that's how it starts.  I felt stupid.  I felt ashamed that I could not even handle the BEGINNING of labor.  And I agreed to the epidural.  I didn't see any other option.  I was clearly a wimp. I was already confined to the bed with all the monitors, so having zero use of my legs didn't seem to matter much.  When the anesthesiologist came in to give me the epidural, I was beyond pain and I became convinced he was going to paralyze me.  My husband tried to calm me down and keep me still, but I was freaking out and crying.  I sometimes wonder if the Cytotec made me a bit paranoid as well.  And then the pain was gone.  And I started getting loopy.  Cracking jokes, feeling funny. I had become completely disconnected from my daughter's birth. 

My husband went to get something to eat where the poor man cried as he tried to deal with the stress of having lost his grandfather and his wife having his first child.  That's a lot to handle.  A lot.  While he was gone, I started feeling pain again.  Lots of pain.  I had to start breathing through contractions again, but I didn't want to up the epidural level.  My husband returned, the nurse checked me, informed us I was complete, and they wheeled all the equipment in.  I had gone from 4/5 cm to complete in about 15-20 minutes.  The epidural dosage was low enough that I could still feel and push (which I am so grateful for!).  They, of course, had me do forced pushing: pushing for 10 seconds/3 times every contraction.  My husband counted to 10 probably a thousand times in those three hours.  It didn't feel like 3 hours to either of us though.  In fact, up until my current doctor informed me a few months ago that I had pushed that long, we were both convinced I only pushed for an hour and a half at the most.

It turned out Little Miss was face up and pushing on my back, which hurt like crazy, especially when I was confined to a bed ON MY BACK!!  I had a bruised tailbone for months.  She rotated on her own though in the birth canal and was born face down.  Unfortunately she dragged her little arm up by her face and did a little more tearing that I would've liked.

I remember the doctor asking me if I wanted to touch her head with all its hair as she was crowning and I promptly refused.  I think I was only thinking of the current pushing and forgot completely what it was I was striving for.  Little Miss did not seem to be my goal, if that makes sense.  And I was disgusted with the whole birthing process.  I felt so exposed and ashamed, I just wanted it over with.

She was born at 3:05pm on Monday, June 1st, 2009 and my first thought when they put her on my chest was "Eww, couldn't they have cleaned her off first?" That makes me sad.  I didn't feel that excited.  I didn't really care.  They took her again, poked, prodded, and nearly got decked by my husband.  He went instantly into protect mode and still struggles with not stopping how rough they were with her.  One happy memory I have is of my husband saying something and Little Miss lifting her head to look at him.  She must have recognized that voice!  They took her away after the poking and prodding to give her a bath and such and my husband went with.  All I could think was that I barely got to see her.  They could bring me back a completely different baby and I would never know!  I had nightmares for a long time that I couldn't recognize my own child.  I'm not sure how long they were gone and I have no memory of her being brought back or even of nursing her, though I know I did right when she returned.  I know mentally that she latched on strong and well, but I can't picture the moment.  And I have no emotion attached with seeing her again.

I think that's what bothers me most about her birth: the sterility of it all.  The drugs, the matter of factness, the lack of emotions from those attending as well as myself and the fact that I just flat out can't remember so many things that should be etched in my mind as life altering.  I feel like I had those memories stolen from me and I will never get them back.

The next few days in the hospital were rough.  My back hurt from both the back labor and the epidural placement and I struggled to even walk.  One of my legs continued to feel tingly for at least a month which freaked me out to no end.  And I still struggled with being apathetic to the fact that I now had a beautiful, wonderful baby girl.  I was now a mother, but I just didn't seem to care.  I still felt very ashamed of the birth and the lack of dignity I was allowed.  I remember a nurse walking in on me while I was going to the bathroom and asking me questions.  I was so embarrassed and it only added to my sense of shame and lack of personhood within the hospital walls.

And then there was breastfeeding.  Even though they said I was doing great, Little Miss had a good latch, and my milk seemed to have come in, they said my daughter was starving and needed formula.  I refused the first time or so, but when a nurse kept telling me my baby was "so hungry" I eventually gave my permission.  They forced more than 4 oz into her tiny stomach (barely the size of a walnut) which she promptly threw up everywhere.  And they continued to do that repeatedly during my stay.  I'm crying now just thinking that I allowed that to happen.  They kept saying she wasn't getting enough, never enough.  I would nurse her for 45 minutes or so and then they insisted she get a bottle on top of that.  We did that until she was 10 days old when I finally put my foot down and said NO MORE.  I knew that's not what I wanted and I was determined to make breastfeeding work.  I still think the formula played a role in why she was so colicky.  I had allowed her gut flora to be sabotaged and her digestion wasn't working the way it was supposed to.  She spit up a lot during those months.  And it just breaks my heart that she suffered so much in her first few days, weeks, and months. 

We recovered physically.  We bonded.  We exclusively breastfed from Day 10 to 7 months.  And we're still breastfeeding at 23 months.  And she is amazing.  And I can barely stand to be away from her for more than a few hours because I just miss that cutie pie!  I've done the best I can to make up for those first few days and weeks, but I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling guilty for what I allowed to happen.  I could say I just didn't know any better, but that's the point.  We, who have access to information more than any other generation in the world, should know better.  I plan everything.  I'm a list maker.  I research things to no end.  But I didn't research with pregnancy or birth.  At all.  I picked the wrong people to trust and I deserved what happened to me.  But my daughter did not.  She should have been brought into the world better than the way I gave her.  She should have been protected better than I protected.  And she should have been loved better than I loved.

The only way I've been able to console myself in this is knowing our God is sovereign.  Because of how her birth went, we made changes in our lives.  Our lifestyles have changed drastically and we've done the research for this next child's birth.  God is good.  If her birth had been natural and perfect, I can pretty much guarantee we would not have made many of the changes we've made.  I can also guarantee that there would be a lot more arrogance in my attitudes towards those struggling with their birth or breastfeeding experiences.  I still will grieve over her birth, but can at least move forward knowing that God is in control, even when it feels like everything else is so out of control.

The Birth of My Daughter Part One

I've never written down the birth of my daughter.  I've always tried to steer my thoughts away from those days in the hospital, but I think I need to deal with the anger and guilt I feel over that experience so that I can be fully present in the birth of my next child.


My pregnancy with my daughter was rough from the start.  We had lost our first child in a miscarriage and looking back, I think that stripped me of any confidence I had in my body.  I was terrified that I couldn't even carry a baby to term, let alone birth said baby.  I had already failed as a mother in my mind, unable to protect that little life, so how could I possibly trust my body throughout another pregnancy and then a birth?  I was incredibly insecure during the pregnancy, from the doubts of my abilities to the drastic changes in my body.

And like most women, I trusted my doctor.  I trusted medicine.  And this is where I feel guilt.  I had already been burned horribly by the medical community and they had done nothing to regain my trust and yet I trusted.  They had told me I was a weak, attention-seeking complainer and even after I had proven that wasn't true, I still let them tell me I was weak and incapable of doing anything.  Why did I let that happen?  Why didn't I stand up for myself and my child?  I should have known better.  I failed yet again to protect my babies.  I followed all the medical advice.  I did everything I was supposed to do, but there I was, swollen, my blood pressure rising and desperately trying to convince the doctor to induce me.  For ignoring me on this point, I thank him.  I would have done almost anything to just not be pregnant anymore.

When I was about 34 weeks along, we learned that my husband's grandfather had cancer.  The really bad cancer that just comes in and destroys in a matter of months.  We went to visit him and prayed he would live to see his first grandchild, but God had other plans.  Thursday, May 28th, 2009, he went to be with the Lord.  I had woken up that day feeling absolutely amazing and energetic at 38 weeks.  I knew that baby was coming, but at 9 am, my husband came home crying to tell me Grandpa had died.  What could we do?  We only had a few options: not going to the funeral, my husband going without me, or both of us going and risking the baby coming.  Not going at all was quickly rejected as I knew my husband would always regret it.  I was terrified to have him go without me especially since I woke up feeling so incredibly amazing.  So we decided to go together.

Sunday we had church and then gathered as a family before the visitation.  My daughter was going crazy in the womb.  My husband's cousin looked on in horror as feet and hands could be seen pushing my belly out and bouncing everything around.  I was getting more and more uncomfortable and my mother-in-law told me later that watching me walk, it seemed like the baby's head was RIGHT there.  Visitation over and back to the house where we talked about Grandpa and laughed and laughed (he was a VERY good joke teller!). I think the laughing was what did me in.  I got up to the go to the bathroom (for about the 40th time) and halfway down the hallway I started peeing my pants.  Or so I thought at first.  It didn't stop though.  I went back to the room and firmly told Ty I thought we should go to bed.  I went downstairs where I found my MIL and asked her how I would know if my water broke.  I believe her exact response was "Really?????" spoken with just a hint of dread.  We decided to labor at the house for as long as possible, but labor never really started.  I maybe had 2 or 3 contractions the whole night, but was terrified enough that I didn't sleep a bit. 

In the morning we decided to go into the hospital which is where any remaining confidence was promptly stripped away and I became a patient, not a woman or mother.

Part Two

An Update on Life

I know it's been quiet on here, but I'm afraid blogging has just not been a priority lately.  My big priority: hunting for GAPS friendly recipes.  My husband had been feeling kinda miserable since Christmas and finally just decided he needed to do something drastic.  He had gone on a diet similar to GAPS before we were married and it pretty much cured his acid reflux, but he was starting to feel like he was heading down that same path, so it was time for a change.  Even though we eat almost all traditional foods, it just wasn't enough to recover from Christmas junk.  It's been about 6 weeks or so now and it's gone pretty well.  It's just been ridiculously overwhelming to be 8 months pregnant and doing a complete diet change for our family.  I make sure all the meals are GAPS friendly, but I'm not super strict with myself about snacks.  I honestly just don't have the energy for it.  I have tried to keep my daughter grain free though, so any grain type snacks have to be eaten when she's not around...which is pretty much never.

So after 6 weeks, I think it's been good for us.  I know I feel so much better and have more energy.  We had company over the weekend and went out to eat and cooked more normal food, and oh my, I felt awful!  I mean, my stomach was fine, but I don't think my body is used to running on carbs anymore.  I was just exhausted.  I'm still trying to recover! 

As for the pregnancy, it's going so incredibly well.  I feel so much healthier and energetic than I did with my pregnancy with Little Miss.  The only "scare" we've had was that I was measuring small at my appointments.  And not consistently small.  At 16 weeks I measured 1 week big.  At 22 weeks, I measured 1.5 weeks small.  And at 26 weeks, I measured 2.5 weeks small.  I was pretty sure it was just the way I'm carrying this one, but we finally agreed to an ultrasound to check everything out.  And yep, everything is fine.  The baby is measuring right on and all was well.  With Little Miss, I measured 2 weeks big the entire time, so it's been a little different being on the smaller side of things.  With that pregnancy, people started asking if I was due "any day now" from about 6 months on.  Yeah...that was super nice.

We didn't find out the sex during the ultrasound and I'm glad we didn't want to, as the tech said she wouldn't have even been able to figure it out because of the baby's position.  Glad we weren't set on it and then disappointed.

Little Miss is still nursing as well, but I'm finding myself saying no much more frequently.  I've just found it more uncomfortable and sometimes just gives me the heebie jeebies.  When I say no, I always try to have a condition though, like "after lunch" or "when Daddy gets home."  That seems to help and she NEVER forgets!  I'm really hoping that the feelings I have now go away once the new baby comes, but who knows?

So that's a little update on how things are going.  It's been pretty crazy, but good. 

Good Excuses

Okay, so it's been awhile.  I knew this blog thing would never be a major priority for me, but more of a chance to put my thoughts down when I needed to.  But I do have a very good reason for dropping off the face of the planet: morning sickness.  Yep. The wonderful joys of morning sickness for 8 long and brutal weeks.

But it has finally passed and now I can excitedly tell people that yes, we are expecting and I'm not just filling up on cookies during the Holidays.  I mean...I AM filling up on a cookies, but that's not why I suddenly have a huge gut.  This little one will be joining us at the end of May or the beginning of June.  Depends how big of a rush he/she is in.  So currently I'm about 17 weeks along and starting to enjoy the whole pregnant thing.  It really is fun once I'm not feeling nauseous 24/7.  And I'm just starting to feel movement too, which I absolutely love.  It gives me such a sense of security and joy. 

I do have to report that I have noticed a substantial decrease in bad pregnancy symptoms compared to my pregnancy with Little Miss.  My nausea was less and I threw up less.  I didn't get the breast tenderness or as much cramping.  The exhaustion was still there, but I have a good reason for that too:  I'm still breastfeeding Little Miss.  And it's going pretty well.  I thought once the morning sickness hit I would want to wean her, but it was the best thing ever!  1) I'm pretty sure the breastfeeding is what decreased my morning sickness and 2) when you have a toddler who never sits still EXCEPT for when she nurses, you certainly don't want to give up that time.  I would let her nurse as much as she wanted just so we could sit and snuggle when I felt my worst.  It also meant I didn't have to dig through the fridge as often for food for her.  She would tell me when she wanted food, but having breastmilk fill in the calorie gap really took a load off my shoulders.

I really have no idea what the next step is.  I don't have any desire to wean her (although we did wean at night and last week was rough and I DID have definite thoughts of weaning), but we'll just see.  She may wean herself as my milk changes and decreases.  I just don't know.  We are constantly in uncharted territories.

I suppose all parenting is uncharted territories though.  Even if you've done it with one kid, every child is different.  It'll be fun to see who this little one will turn out to be!

Beyond a Year

I never started out to breastfeed my daughter beyond a year.  My mom breastfed me and my sisters to a year and anything beyond that sounded ridiculous to me.  Even gross.  I could not wrap my head around why ANYONE would want to breastfeed past a year.  I wasn't even sure how someone could justify it.

But then we went through colic.  And I began breastfeeding on demand.  And we decided to do child-led solids which meant Little Miss wasn't getting many calories from eating regular food.  I read somewhere that a child's diet should be 80% breastmilk at a year.  80%!  How could I possibly wean my child off of 80% of her diet?  So as a year approached, I realized that neither of us were ready to wean.  I had been responding to her needs for the past year, and I couldn't imagine suddenly saying no to those needs.

Now many people say, well, you must not have struggled.  And in many ways, you're right.  I didn't struggle as much as other people, but we definitely had struggles.  We had the nurses in the hospital doing everything possible to sabotage my breastfeeding.  We had major difficulties with a good latch because of said nurses.  I suspect now that the colic was because I had an oversupply which caused her to get only fore milk which upset her stomach.  She didn't sleep through the night until 10 1/2 months.  She got her first 2 teeth rather early and bit me.  Hard.  Multiple times.  We went from 2 to 8 teeth in 2 weeks and spent the next 2-3 months trying to figure out better positions and getting a good latch.  I got mastitis a few times.  I had cuts in my nipples from her adjusting to her teeth.  She still nurses at least 8 times a day, but for short amounts of time. She's currently getting molars and has slept through the night twice in the last 2 months. And I'm sure we'll have more struggles.

But ya know what?  It's been worth it.  I love that she is getting the food that is designed for her.  I love when she kicks and smiles because she is that excited to nurse.  I love when she decides that nursing while standing on one leg would be fun to do.  I love when she has to stop to point out my belly button for me.  I love when she has to stop to point out her belly button for me.  I love how she has to investigate my mouth and teeth while nursing.  I love when she decides to give me a raspberry and giggles!  I love when she snuggles up next to me at night and falls asleep nursing.

I never thought I would love nursing a toddler.  I plain never thought it was even a possibility for me.  I have no idea how long we'll nurse.  Hopefully to 2 years, at least.  She doesn't show any signs of stopping now, which gives me hope that we'll reach that goal, but who knows?

I suppose I'll just have to let her take the lead.  Just like she's been doing for the past 16 months. 

On Being Thankful for Colic

Before our daughter was born, my husband and I tried very hard to keep from drifting into the "parenting is going to be ALWAYS wonderful" land.  We did our best to remember that there would be sleepless nights and rough times.  But nothing could prepare us for our daughter.  She screamed.  A lot.  She cried.  A lot.  She refused to sleep.  She demanded to be bounced 24/7.  The first four months of her life are still a tear-filled blur.  Now, I'm not saying we didn't have amazing times with her.  We didn't want to give her back and we loved her more than we thought was possible.  But it was rough.  Rah-ah-ah-heally rough.

At first, we tried to get her to sleep in her own bed.  That's what good parents do, right?  But she ended up in bed with me every night.  She demanded to be held constantly so I looked into babywearing.  She would actually sleep when I had her in the wrap.  *bliss*  At first I tried to nurse on a schedule, but she was always hungry and nursing seemed to be one the few things that calmed her.  I started nursing on demand.

I did everything that "good" parents are supposed to do in our day and age and it just plain didn't work.  And ya know what?  I'm so very very glad.  I'm glad that our daughter forced us onto a different parenting style.  Co-sleeping.  Babywearing.  Nursing on demand.  Nursing beyond a year.  Our high need daughter led us down a path we never expected to take and I'm grateful.  God definitely knew the kind of child we needed first: one that would shock us into parenthood.  Shock us into doing things we never thought we would.  Shock us into turning away from mainstream parenthood.  Shock us into a way of parenting that we resisted and now love.

As hard as those colicky days and nights were, I'm so thankful for them.

But I still hope that our next one is a better sleeper.