Well Sarcastic Mom has taken the cake. Today we get to talk about our BooBs! My only complaint is that I have to post pictures of her boobs. I mean they are nice and all, but I kinda like my own.
My boob story began on Sunday, January 30, 2000. Pete came into the world then and he was yellow. Yes, I said yellow. He had jaundice. My birth plan was shot all to hell because I took the pain medicine after 14 hours of labor even though I swore I wouldn't and it still took another 4 hours. I let him sleep in the nursery, even though I swore I wouldn't. And you know what? The world didn't come to an end and we still bonded.
I was able to breastfeed Pete soon after he arrived and to this day, I am still amazed that he knew just what to do. He may not have known the proper technique, but he knew that boobs were his food source and he tried really hard. The lactation consultant came in and made sure we did everything right. Like, Lotus, I read all the books. Bought the breast pads. Stocked up on Lansinoh tit cream and purchased a Boppy pillow. These essentials I swear by even to this day.
Two days after we came home, the lactation consultant, who had been the one to notice the little yellow baby in the hospital, came for a visit and recommended a nurse come and draw blood. Yep, he had jaundice and a nasty little case of it at that. Me and Pete at 4 days old.
So we were given the "bili-blanket" and that didn't work. Held by BN. See him "glowing" and look at that umbilical cord remnant.
Pete was admitted to the Children's Hospital less than a week after we took him home. He had to stay in the incubator bed with the big bright lights (phototherapy) constantly on him and I wasn't able to hold him and breastfeed. Here he is being held by BN during one of the few times we could take him out for a few minutes. Love those glasses.
They brought in the big industrial machine breast pump and my swollen, engorged boobs produced ONE OUNCE of milk. So I had to feed Pete formula by sliding my hand and bottle through the cutouts in the bed. I cried and cried and they sent a nurse to help me with pumping, but my boobs refused to cooperate. An ounce here, two ounces there. Certainly not enough to feed Pete and help push the excess bilirubin out of his little body. But I kept pumping to keep the milk coming in and fed Pete formula through those little holes for 2 days until he was cleared to go home.
And then the marathon nursing began. Like clockwork, every two hours, I was in the rocker with him propped on the Boppy pillow. I never was able to pump and give BN a chance to feed him. I don't know why my boobs wouldn't pump, but as evidenced by this picture, Pete was well fed. He was 4 months old here!
We co-slept for his first four months and Pete loved that. In fact, I got to where I didn't even really wake up but Pete did! He'd scooch himself over to my exposed boob and eat away at my All-Night-Buffet.
My favorite boob story is how ecstatic Pete looked when he nursed. Eyes all rolled back in his head, and his free arm would beat my chest in tempo with his gulps. And I mean gulps! He was noisy. I always said I wanted a picture or video of it so that I'd never forget. I didn't get the photo or video so I will have to print this for my scrapbook to remind me when I am beyond remembering.
Entering our eleventh month, I woke up at 4am with a 105 degree fever. My right breast was HOT!! and I had red streaks that ran from the nipple to under my armpit. Turns out I had mastitis. How I got that so late in the game (this normally happens to beginners) I'll never know.
Fortunately, I realized what I had and went to my doctor that very morning. Any later and I would have suffered blood poisoning. UNfortunately, it was so bad that a normal dose of antibiotics and a booster shot of it didn't clear it up and I was referred to a breast surgeon specialist who ran all kinds of tests and did an untrasound on my boob. They were checking for cancer. She then cleared me of having cancer and gave me a double dose of antibiotics and sent me on my way. Hint: if you get mastitis, don't leave your doctor's office with a normal dose of antibiotics. Request extra and save yourself additional visits and cancer scares. At least that is what the surgeon said.
So we stopped nursing one month shy of my goal to nurse the whole first year. Let me repeat lest you didn't hear it the first time...the world didn't end and we still bonded.
That's my story. Mosey on over to Lotus and read more tit stories.