A Bird's Eye View: Dedicated to the IGT and Low Milk Supply Support Group

I read this picture today and came away realizing something unintended. 

I DID feed my baby everything she needed, for 9 wonderful months. I'd never really thought about it that way before. Then I realized something even greater, my perspective has changed. 

I remember the day I forced myself to go to the hospital's breastfeeding support group. It was FULL of mothers and babies, all strangers to me. When the time came for questions, I raised my hand and waited. When the leader smiled at me and beckoned for my question, my voice shook. I said something like, "My daughter is 3 weeks old today, and she sleeps for six hours at night. She also takes 4 hour naps during the day. Is that ok?" The woman shrugged saying she didn't know much about newborns (what!?) but a woman dressed in scrubs spoke up from the back, telling me to see her after the meeting. Turns out she was the IBCLC from the hospital and she managed the group. The lady up front was just leading a discussion on sleep training that day. 

After the room cleared, and I had waited for many women to meet with the IBCLC, it was finally my turn. I was the last one, and the conversation is etched in my memory. I had just told her my daughter's birth weight and what it had dropped to in the previous weeks. I was very hopeful my supply had increased at this point and that my daughter had made up the weight loss. After weighing, she looked at me and confirmed the fear I had tried to ignore, the fear that everyone had reassured me was imagined. My daughter had lost more weight. She said I had to supplement, right away. She reassured me it would only be temporary and help my daughter to become alert until my milk supply increased.  At her words, my heart shattered. The sanctity and health benefits I'd read about breast milk and breastfeeding were hindered when a mom introduced formula. Then, in reply to my earlier question about my daughter sleeping so long, she said that was because Annabelle was trying to conserve calories to survive. I felt my throat constrict and my face flush, as I did my best to hold back the tears that were already escaping down my cheeks. It was then that I really lost the beauty of becoming a mommy. I was struggling for the 3 weeks postpartum, but everyone [ family and friends that had breastfed] kept telling me to put baby to breast and it would work itself out. I halfheartedly convinced myself they were right, even though my instincts had said something was truly wrong. Now, I knew I had a big problem. Not an "oh, it will get better, just keep trying" kind of problem.

I was immediately ashamed, broken, and very alone. I didn't know anyone who had gone through this, and it took eight more weeks before I could stop crying every day. The IBCLC said I'd be able to make milk, just do x, y, and z. It isn't like me to take medicine or a lot of vitamin supplements, but I did (the line of pill bottles left over in my pantry are a fragment of the things I was told to take). I also wasn't planning to spend money renting a hospital grade pump, but I did. With little success, I spent another 8 weeks of doubting and questioning how I would do this for a year [my breastfeeding goal] because x,y, z had turned into abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz. 

The various lactation consultant visits, the weight checks and hospital visits, the poky sns tube that leaks and frustrates my already hungry infant, the lack of knowledge and conflicting advice from medical professionals, the expenses, going out to buy pricy and hard-to-find vitamins with my newborn in tow, the domperidone meds I hated putting in my body, the round the clock pumping, the types of pumps and sizes of flanges, the round the clock washing of pump parts and bottles in addition to nursing on demand, the weigh-feed-weighs after every feed, the hours and hours of research looking for an answer, the [unintended] hurtful comments from people I loved, searching for milk donors, praying whether to accept milk, SPILLING milk, the desperation and exhaustion..as you all know, it is a lot to endure. When I began to suspect IGT, I made an appointment with my midwife and nervously told her (I was very ashamed.). She dismissed it immediately (without checking my breasts), and prescribed oxytocin-- yet another thing "to try." I was also in a lot of pain the first month due to one of my tears during delivery. Because it was an artery and a deep tear, the blood loss and iron supplements caused health problems for another three months. That threw me for a loop as well.

I had come to feel that I would never fully heal from this time in my life. Physically, yes, but emotionally no. Two weeks ago I paid a highly recommended IBCLC to look at my breasts, and though I already knew it, she confirmed an obvious IGT diagnosis. 

So when I read the quote on that picture above, and I suddenly realized I felt triumphant, I had to put my thoughts to paper.

At 24.5 weeks postpartum, "it" doesn't hurt as badly. It's still difficult, and yes, I only make 2.5 oz IN A DAY according to the scale I've rented, but guys-- it's different. I don't know what changed, but I've climbed the mountain and I have a bird's eye view... and the road ahead is really, really beautiful. I'm overcome with gratitude.

FOUR amazing women have committed to donating milk for Annie over the last 6 months, and I've been so fortunate to never run out. Before this, I never even knew about milk sharing nor could have thought I'd trust these women the way I do. But beyond that, I get to be the mother of Annabelle Grace LaGravinese. 

She is a beautiful treasure. Because of everything the two of us endured, I have an unbreakable bond with my daughter. Nothing can defeat us. We both know I will never, ever give up on her. "It" really doesn't matter anymore, and in realizing that, all the power, confidence, and faith I had been questioning came rushing in. The esteemed badge of "exclusively breastfeeding" doesn't sting now. Now the thought of mothers breastfeeding their children while I struggle with a lact-aid and a daughter who wants to squeeze the milk out of the bag, just makes me smile a knowing, calm smile. This has been my story of becoming a mother, and it's unique. Exclusively breastfeeding is an incredible gift, and I pray that one day I will experience it. I am a believer that God is wholly good, and I trust Him with my life and motherhood; however, in this moment, I cherish the lact-aid because I get to nurse my daughter to her heart's content.

Our traumatic beginning is healing despite things not being the way I, and my many family and friends, had prayed. As we approach 6 months of breastfeeding next week, it's funny how this bodily weakness doesn't carry the weight and power over me that it used to. I am a humbler person than I was 6 months ago, and I have gained a strength that can't be shaken. I'm also at peace. Thank you "IGT and Low Milk Supply Support Group" for being incredibly encouraging and supportive no matter what choices we make or what happens to our milk supply. 

From the bird's eye view, I see that it really wasn't about breastfeeding. It was about me overcoming adversity as a daughter of the most high God, and as a mother of the most precious daughter. Overcoming adversity, the time it takes and the path one follows, is different for every one of us. So, I dedicate this blog to each of you women in the world that is fighting to give their child what they believe is best. The IGT and Low Milk Supply Support Group is an incredible extended family. It's ironic that I was once embarrassed to join this group on Facebook because I thought others would see and judge me. Now I am so proud to be a part of it.

Thank you admins for maintaining the low milk supply group for people like me. 

Love to you all, and a warm hug from one mom to another. 

The Story of Annabelle Grace

This story has gone unwritten for more months than I anticipated-- but trust me, it has sat in my heart growing and deepening with time. So, in celebration of her 6 month birthday, here it is. 

I love you always, Annie! 

8.22.12 @10pm

I was with my mom and grandma on a trip, visiting family in Wisconsin. We were staying at my Great Uncle Bert's home that night. Earlier in the day I sneaked away from the family to buy a pregnancy test, and now everyone had gone to sleep. I clearly remember feeling my heart beating, like I was being the sneakiest person known to man. And..as we all know now, the test revealed I was pregnant. Afterwards, I tiptoed to the living room couch and lay there in the dark, feeling God had just given me the key to a treasure that no one else knew existed. It felt so sacred; I won't ever forget that night. Just me and my baby. I whispered prayers of gratitude and blessing over my treasure, and in those whispers I heard God tell me my little girl was safe. LITTLE GIRL!? I wasn't even asking God for that secret! I, of course, had doubts to whether I really heard Him or not, but I tucked it in my heart and for the next 9 1/2 months, the knowing never fully left.  (Don't worry! I called Joe and told him I had found something pretty cool in Wisconsin. He was unsuspecting. When I got home, I had him open my old glasses case, where he found 3 [stinky] pregnancy tests.) I was shaking, but I caught three blurry photos of the day Joe became Dad.

Weekend of 9.1.2013
We waited until the weekend of my 27th birthday to tell everyone. My Grandma Willan shares the same birthday as me, so she opened up our "gift" at her party, where my side of the family was gathered.

At my birthday party put on by Nana and Pa LaGravinese, Joe did a card trick...little did they know it would reveal their first grandchild!

3.9.2012 @2pm
The pregnancy went by smoothly, one of my favorite seasons of life so far. Even when I had morning sickness (and threw up in a stranger's well manicured lawn on my way home from work!), I genuinely loved my pregnancy so much. In March, the women in my family and my friend Marion threw a baby shower at our house, "fiesta style." I've probably never felt as loved and supported as I did that day. Of course I cried trying to thank these incredible women.

My mother-in-law gave me a book that helped me pray for a pain-free labor. I didn't tell most people I was praying for that- I knew they'd think I was delusional. I looked up scripture to renew my mind and taped them to the mirror. Anytime I felt doubt coming about my labor, I went and read the passages. Joe and I were also reading through Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way by Susan McCutcheon-- such an awesome book. We learned a lot, and felt prepared to do this together. By the time I was 9 mo, I was pretty EXCITED! Anytime my midwife asked me if I was nervous or afraid, Id say I couldn't wait to deliver. It's funny to me now that I had no fear about labor.. literally never crossed my mind. Thanks to God.

4.3.13 @ 10pm
Our Bible study group had decided to take on a prayer challenge. So this was my first night of the challenge. I sat on the ground by my bed (because lying in bed would involve more sleeping than praying), and I began to pray for people on my mind. Out of nowhere, I felt the Holy Spirit talk to me about our baby. He said she'd come next Thursday. Immediately I did one those, "God, is that you?" The words of the Holy Spirit just sat in my heart comfortably..that's the best way I can explain it. Again, I had one of those is this me or this God type of conversations in my head. Feeling a bit excited, I thanked God and went back to praying.

I knew it was really weird that God had told me when our baby would be born. So it took a full day before I told Joe. When I did, he immediately said he had some work to get done! Hahaha I guess he believed me when I wasn't so sure myself. He started making lists and preparing at work for this impending day... I remained in a quasi-- eh, God, let's see if I really heard you-- state of mind. At church that weekend, Joe was leading worship and I was volunteering in the nursery. When church got out, I came back to the congregation and everyone was saying, Thursday, huh? The baby is coming Thursday?? Apparently Joe had announced while leading worship!? I was so embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to know because I was afraid I hadn't really heard God. I was afraid I'd make God look bad or everyone would think I was a fool for saying that. But, oh well, my secret was out!

4.11.12 @4am
I woke up to contractions. They didn't hurt, but felt like light movements in my lower stomach. I was like, wow! Is this really happening on THURSDAY? Then I tried to go back to sleep. By 6 I gave up trying to sleep and went to rock in the rocking chair. As the day progressed, I continued to feel contractions at about 3 minutes apart. Yet, I didn't feel Joe should head home because I felt totally fine! So, I decided to go get my hair cut and styled, and on the way to the salon my mom called. After hearing that my contractions were holding steady at 3 minutes apart, she convinced me to call my midwife. I reluctantly did, and they advised me to go the hospital. I remember asking, "Do I have to?" The nurse chuckled and said she couldn't make me. So I got my hair cut instead. (The stylist was a bit jumpy when I told her I chose her over the doctor at the hospital, but the haircut turned out cute.)

By the time I returned home, my friend Kay was there to go for our 3 mi walk. (I didn't tell her I was having contractions.) When we were almost home from our walk, my contractions began to pick up. Kay joked (I think?) that she wanted to run home and leave me. She stuck it out though, and I got home sweaty and feeling good. We drank water, and off she went.

It was about 5pm. Joe and I decided to make pizza on the grill. At 6, it was done and my contractions were feeling kind of uncomfortable. We tried to put a movie on, but by the time I'd finished my pizza, I needed to move around to accommodate the contractions.

For the next hour and a half, they continued to progress to the point that I couldn't stand. I would lean on Joe's shoulders, supported by his arms, so I could just hang limp. He would time the contractions and talk me through them. He was incredibly comforting, and I relied 100% on him. I think he got a good workout! I remember looking at the clock at 7, thinking, I can make it another half hour. By 7:30 I was on all fours, swaying and moaning. At this point, I told Joe he'd better pack up the car! Suddenly, things were intense.

The car ride there was...long. I was on all fours in the front seat [read: super uncomfortable], moaning at every turn and bump in the road! Joe was trying to drive quickly, but there was no 'quick enough'! We arrived through the ER entrance at 8pm, and they offered me a wheel chair. I sat down for about 10 seconds before deciding I would much rather walk! The contractions kept coming, and I felt the eyes of everyone in the ER. I was putting on a show, moaning, leaning on Joe, with each wave of contractions. The nurse gave me a look of doubt and told me it was a long walk, but we did it. Every few minutes, I'd have to pause, lean on Joe for the contraction, and then we'd continue on.

Turns out I was 6cm dilated, so they admitted me. My room was nice and spacious. They set up a labor tub, and I hopped in the warm shower while the tub was filling. It instantly felt better. They took my heart rate, blood pressure, and measured contractions from the shower. The tub ended up being too hot, but after Joe had them empty half and add cooler water, I was able to get in. All I can say is, Ahhhhhhhhh. It was so soothing. At this point I think it was probably 9:30. For the next 2 hours I was primarily in the tub. Joe fell asleep on the couch, and I slept on and off in the tub. My midwife came in sporadically to ask how I was doing, and I told her I thought labor had slowed down. I wasn't feeling much.

So she left.

At 11:30 I was tired of wading in the pool, sitting on the yoga ball, and pacing the room. The contractions were coming every 5 minutes or so, but didn't feel as strong as before. Joe had curled up on the couch and fell asleep. Being in that dark room, I felt for a moment like giving up. It was so quiet and cool. I was so tired. I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep so badly; I couldn't understand why labor had come to a halt. I prayed in the tub, asking God to help me. Was I supposed to have the baby like I thought He said? I felt Him tell me to alternate spending 10 minutes in the tub, 10 minutes walking, and so on. So, I did.

4.12.2013 Midnight 
A half hour later, just after midnight, Ramona [our midwife] came in. I was sitting on a yoga ball and sadly told her not much was going on. She offered to check how dilated I was, just to encourage me. I shrugged and agreed. She had me lay on the bed, and as she checked, I saw her eyes grow big. By this time Joe was up and at my side. Her warm Texan accent said something like, "Oh my, Rachel! You're at 10 cm! ... [look of disbelief]... let me check again." Sure, enough. I was. She said it was time to push this baby out!

I was so surprised. She was so surprised. Joe was so surprised! At this time, I felt NO contractions. I had been waiting for the transition period they talk about-- where contractions are overwhelming, you may throw up or want to give up because of how painful it is. I could have rolled over and fallen asleep. I felt so calm and at peace, ready to cozy up in a warm bed and sleep. Ramona couldn't believe my demeanor. I honestly didn't know any better. This was my first labor experience, and beyond hearing stories from other women, I really didn't know what was "normal."

At about 12:40am, Ramona monitored my contractions and told me when to push, since I didn't feel anything. I did what she said, and Joe was by my side, stroking my head and encouraging me that our baby was almost here. I was focused, but still felt no pain or fear. We did three sets of pushes. My midwife held one leg, a nurse attendant held the other, and Joe helped me sit up and push. I did my best to breathe and relax my body, like the Bradley book had taught us. Joe would remind me to relax when he felt me tensing up.

On the second set of pushes, my water broke, and I felt so giddy! The rush of warm water was soothing and relieving of the pressure I felt. I kept asking excitedly, was that my water? Was that my water? Ramona nodded, and seemed more serious than I did. On the third set of pushes, I let out a cry of pain, and at 1:08am Annabelle Grace LaGravinese was born. When I go back and watch the video, I can hear Ramona ask me if I'm ok, and she says something like, I'm so sorry, Rachel. It didn't occur to me then that something had happened, but now I know I had two tears, one of which was a 2nd degree tear on an artery. It led to a lot of bleeding, and a very difficult recovery. But that story is for another day.

Joe was filming, and I could hear him crying and saying, it's a girl! He was so happy, laughing through his tears. They rested her on my chest, and I cuddled her warm body. She felt incredible, and the hospital staff kindly cleared out, letting us be alone with her and our families for the next two hours. We had our little girl, and the story of Annabelle Grace LaGravinese begins. 

April 12, 2013

7lb 11 oz, 21 3/4 in

Annabelle Grace LaGravinese