No Two Labor Stories Are The Same

As the final weeks of my pregnancy were coming to a close, I was anxiously awaiting any labor signs to show that Elliott was arriving. At my 36 week appointment, I was dilated to a one. At my 37 week appointment, I was still dilated to a one. As the days progressed that week, I started to get some inconsistent contractions that made me think that it was coming soon. But I was hoping not TOO soon. I've heard that women don't go into labor until they feel safe to do so.

My Mom had a September 15th work deadline at her accounting firm. They asked her not to leave for Utah until after it had passed. That same Thursday there was going to be a Relief Society activity that I really wanted to go to. We were going to get to know each other better, and have s'mores. As we held our breath each day that week, it seemed as if we were in the clear. I was able to go to the Relief Society activity and have a great time there.

The next day was my 38 week appointment at 10:30 a.m. Spencer came with me just in case I was going to go into labor. I had my suitcase somewhat poorly packed because I told him in the car that I didn't think it was going to happen today. I also exclaimed that if I was still dilated to a one I would be very upset!

As I was getting my cervix checked, to my surprise I was dilated to a 5 and 80% effaced. My midwife Marnae told us that we were not going to be making it to our induction day next Friday. She believed that it would happen within the next few days, but if I got my membranes swept, I would go into labor within the next 24 to 30 hours. Spencer and I briefly talked about it, but he said it was ultimately my decision. I just thought to myself, why the heck not? Lets do it!

Well, the sweep was super painful. Which I expected since cervical checks were already pretty painful for me. As Marnae was cleaning up, she told us that she could see I was already having a contraction. I looked at her and told her that I didn't even recognize it as a contraction. Marnae looked at me and proclaimed, "I love you, but I don't trust you." Pertaining to my lack of ability to recognize what contractions felt like! She told us to take a brisk walk at the mall to help labor progress, and she'll meet us at the hospital when I'm progressing. As she left the room she gave me a hug and said, we're going to have a baby today! She did a little clap and skip out of the room and it was so cute.

Spencer and I didn't really want to go home since I was already having contractions, especially since I was afraid of having a baby on the side of the road. While I was getting dressed, Spencer went to talk to Marnae at the desk and convince her to admit me to labor and delivery.

As she considered it, she called labor and delivery and asked if they had room for me and that I would be needing an epidural. She told them that I was dilated to a six and 80% effaced. ;) They said for us to come on down. As she got off the phone we said "Six?" She said "Sshhhh" and that she could have stretched me to a six if she wanted to, but didn't want to hurt me. 

Since Marnae only works mornings, we did a brisk walk around the hospital to find the cafeteria (never used it) to pass the time before she could come and break my water. I started the paperwork at 11:11 once we got to labor and delivery. I am really sad because I forgot to do my last baby bump photo before getting dressed in a gown, placing my IV, and getting hooked up to monitors.

The next hour was a bit of a blur, but they were calling the anathesialogist so I could get my epidural. I started to recognize what contractions felt like again. The monitor was telling me that they were four minutes apart already. At 12:30 p.m. I received my epidural while I was jamming out to Tides and Shape of You from Ed Sheeran. I realized while I was lip syncing I probably shouldn't be jamming out TOO hard because I was slightly moving my back. I cut out the dancing real quick, but continued to lip sync while feeling the burning sensation on my back.

A little later I started to feel really tired, light headed, woozy, and a little nauseous. I told my nurse this and then realized I was seeing my classic blue sparkles in my vision. Which is my classic way of knowing I'm about to pass out (ever since I was a little girl I would see blue sparkles before passing out.) I didn't pass out, but I was close.

I didn't know that there were potential epidural side effects like having low blood pressure. My nurse, Amanda started to panic and called for the anathesialogist stat. Once she heard he was on the opposite side of the hospital getting his lunch, she exclaimed, "Can I just go to his cart and grab the medication?!" Amanda upped my IV while waiting.

Apparently I had five or so really low blood pressure readings, with the lowest being 61/40. Once he came in Amanda was very grateful and talked about how she didn't want to send me to the OR. I'm not entirely sure what operation they would have done on me? Once I got the medication in my IV I started to feel better.

Amanda went and got me lunch to raise my blood pressure. Then she realized I couldn't eat it because I already had my epidural. I was excited at first, but I was content with jello and juice. It worked out well for Spencer because he got free lunch! 

Once my blood pressure was stabilized, Marnae came in and broke my water at 1:20 p.m. I was very grateful that it didn't hurt at all. Gushing was imminent. As it was slowing down, Amanda put in the catheter and it was a little bit uncomfortable.

Amanda got the peanut ball and had me use it to help me dilate. She shifted me to my left side, and said that we would go back and forth left to right until I was a dilated to a ten.

I'm not sure how long I was using the peanut ball when the pain started, but it was not located where I expected. I started to push the epidural button in hopes of getting some relief because my catheter was hurting me. Unfortunately, the button didn't provide any. I tried to suck it up but the contractions were getting worse and worse. I didn't realize at the time that the worsening contractions were the reason why I was hurting so bad. 

Spencer convinced me to call in the nurse to tell her what was going on. Amanda discerned that the catheter was pinching me during every contraction because Elliott's head was stationed so low. She attempted to make it better by adjusting the catheter, but nothing really changed. Amanda told us that she could feel his head while adjusting it, which added to the pain. By that time I was dilated to an eight.  She left and a few minutes of her being gone the contractions worsened. I started to cry in pain and I felt like curling into a little ball. The catheter didn't seem to be working either because I could feel myself leaking. 

Spencer called Amanda in again when the pain was unbearable. She did a formal cervical check and found out I was dilated to a ten at 2:13 p.m. The nurse said that Elliott's head moved just right, which caused the sudden dilation. Amanda took out the catheter because it was causing too much pain. (Later on I learned that once she took it out, pee went everywhere. The tube was most likely smashed between his head and the contractions so it wasn't doing it's job.)

Before I knew it, I started to feel like I needed to push/poop and I was having the hardest time not to. Amanda told me to "breathe it out" to prevent myself from pushing. Since I was in agony I remember gritting through my teeth, "I don't know how to do that!" She breathed in through her nose and breathed out through her mouth. When she stopped, I stopped.  Spencer had to keep showing me how to breathe so I would continue breathing it out.

It felt like 84 years for Marnae to come in and help deliver Elliott. Once she sat down she said, "Okay girl, start pushing whenever you are ready!" My head was not in my right space so I felt like I could hardly process what was happening.

I was grateful to finally be allowed to push. But I quickly learned that I could feel (what I thought) to be everything with each push, and feel every bit of stretching. Marnae was doing a fabulous job of telling me to do little pushes, or to do bigger pushes. I felt more in control of my body because I could tell when I needed to push, instead of being told when to push (like with Lewis' birth).

I was holding Spencer's hand for support, but I decided his hand was useless and I wanted to grip the bed handlebars for support. The nurse told me to hold onto my left thigh to help push, but I didn't think it was helpful at all! Therefore, back to gripping the bed handlebars for dear life.

Everything was a whirlwind by this point. But when I started to crown, I remember screaming, "I can feel EVERYTHINGGGGG!" I now understand why it's called the ring of fire. I didn't want to push any more because I know it would just get more painful. 

Marnae told me to do some big pushes, and it'll be done. I could feel her stretch me, encouraging me to push. I already felt like I was at my limit, knowing his head was in the 97th percentile just made it worse. I took a mini break and didn't take push for one contraction. Then I started to push the hardest, and I screamed the classic child birth screams. 

I pushed one or two more times, and his head was finally out and I was so happy. I pushed and his shoulders were out and I could see him. I was so tired from pushing, Marnae suggested to Spencer to that he could twist him out because she could tell I was DONE. Spencer pulled him out the rest of the way and I threw my head back on the pillow in relief that it was all over.  

Elliott was born purple at 2:36 p.m. with the cord wrapped around his neck. It wasn't super serious as when they unwrapped it he quickly got his color back. Marnae asked if I wanted to cut the cord and I declined, so Spencer did it instead. They gave me skin to skin for about eight seconds before taking him away to make sure that he was okay after having the cord wrapped around his neck. ...I do not remember this. I was waiting to do skin to skin and remember asking, "Do I get to hold him now?" They said yes and we started to do the golden hour of skin to skin.

Except... The golden hour wasn't very golden at the end. I immediately started to feel nauseous and I hurriedly told Spencer to take Elliott so he could do skin to skin. As soon as Spencer took him, I threw up all of the juice that I was allowed to drink in a bag. I felt better after, but I'm very grateful that I didn't throw up on my hour old son!

It's been a long week of adjusting to having two kids. We've gone through hard things like dealing with Elliott's four ties that made breastfeeding very painful (as I got mastitis). But we're slowly on the up and up and we're optimistic for the future! 

It'll be an adventure.

Surviving a Miscarriage

I would have been twelve weeks yesterday.

I know the statistic for having a miscarriage is high, but I was really hoping that it wouldn't happen to me. 

I found out on September 14th that I was pregnant again. I was a little shocked, considering we hadn't been trying for very long. I had just bought a "Best Brother" shirt for Lewis at the thrift store, not knowing I would need it the next day. I was so excited to tell Spencer and he happened to get home late that day. Lewis usually eats with only his diaper on (ain't nobody got time for food stains) but I had him wear the shirt under his bib for when Dad came home. Spencer was wondering why Lewis was wearing a shirt underneath his bib while eating. But then he exclaimed, "So you got a positive pregnancy test today!" after he saw Lewis without the bib. I may have been testing earlier than I should have. xD I received a positive ten days past ovulation, I knew exactly how far along I was. My estimated due date was May 27th, 2022. I soon started to feel nausea, cravings, and food aversions. In other words, lots of Wendy's! ...and rice pilaf. 

I had my '8-week' appointment on October 12th was when I was 7 weeks and 4 days. Spencer came with me because we were going to hopefully see the heartbeat that day. During the ultrasound, we were told that I was measuring at 5 weeks. I knew my calculations weren't off, so I took the statement that the embryo could have been a "slow grower." My midwife admitted that she has seen many cases where babies have turned out healthy after being in a similar situation. She sent me to do some blood work to see if my HCG numbers were rising and told me to come back in two days. Great, instead of only doing blood work once this week, I had to do it twice!

The first blood draw was pretty uneventful, as everyone hopes. But during the second blood draw Lewis was with me while Spencer was working from home. Since I had bruising on my right arm, I opted to do my left arm instead. Wrangling Lewis in the car and driving put a lot of pressure on the inside of my elbow where I had blood drawn.

As I was driving home everything seemed pretty ordinary. I had eaten a good breakfast and I felt completely normal.... until I was about to exit and I saw blood was seeping through my gauze. I'm pretty squeamish per my previous pregnancy and I've passed out immediately or during after blood work. I was about four minutes away from home when I called Spencer to tell him I was blacking out and lightheaded. I tried to find a safe place to pull over, but my head wasn't in the best place to make a turn on a less busy street. I managed to see an opening on the right side of the road where I could stop until the episode was over. I was already blacked out as I pulled over, so I didn't have great perception on whether I was completely stopped or not. I thought I was stopped, but I was quickly corrected when my car hit a brick wall at about 5 miles per hour. No damage to the brick wall, but my ego and my front right bumper were a little scratched. 

I'm very grateful that Spencer worked from home that day, because he was there to rescue us within five minutes of that phone call. He talked to the workers and smoothed everything over so I could go home with him and Lewis. They seemed pretty concerned for me, and I'm sure they were very glad I wasn't a drunk driver with a toddler in the backseat.

My HCG level results confirmed that they were increasing, so my midwife told me to come back in two weeks for my second 8 week appointment. This pushed back my due date to June 14th, 2022.

This gave us hope, and when we went to visit my parents and grandparents in California, we told them the exciting news that I was pregnant. I still had food aversions and I was exhausted all the time. Spencer was an amazing husband (and Dad) and let me sleep in every day during our visit. It was a glorious vacation. 

Three days later after we got home from California, we had that appointment on October 27th. Spencer came with me as Lewis was being watched by a friend. When the midwife came in she took us right back to the ultrasound room to see how our baby was progressing. 

I didn't see any flicker of a heartbeat and my heart immediately dropped. She tried her hardest but there wasn't anything to show that the pregnancy was viable. My midwife said that their ultrasound equipment is outdated and referred us to their imaging department for a vaginal ultrasound to make sure she was correct. She talked about how it's possible that I was experiencing a blighted ovum, and that this pregnancy was most likely not viable. But the imaging department would be able to see the embryo easier. 

While on the drive over there, Spencer and I both agreed that our gut was telling us that I was going to have a miscarriage. The ultrasound technician confirmed our suspicions, as the embryo was now measuring three weeks behind at 6 weeks and 4 days. We both thought it would be a girl. 

Two weeks later, my miscarriage was not progressing naturally, so I had to take Misoprotol yesterday (the day after my birthday) to cycle through it. I would not wish my enemies or anyone else to go through this.

I warn you that the next couple paragraphs are going to be very graphic, so if you're squeamish you may want to skip to the ending.

~~~

I don't believe that my midwife warned me on how intense experiencing my miscarriage via Misoprotol would truly be. I know I read online that I would experience heavy bleeding, and that I could compare it to a heavy period. But to be honest, due to being on birth control pills or having an IUD, my periods were fairly tame. This meant I didn't know if I was bleeding too heavily to the point I should go in. 

Spencer took the day off so he could take care of Lewis. As it would have been impossible for me to cycle through the miscarriage while taking care of him. I inserted the Misoprotol vaginally at 10:45 a.m., and I was told to lay down to make sure that they dissolved properly. Around 2:30 p.m. I started to bleed and I was shocked on the amount of blood and clots that came out all at once. I just kept telling myself it was a heavy period to keep myself calm. I believe I saw the embryo at the very beginning because I saw a little cord attached to it.

I did some Googling and it seemed that the heavy bleeding should last anywhere from two to four hours. I didn't feel comfortable wearing a pad to walk around and get some things done. Because honestly? I didn't like the feeling of all of the blood clots up against my skin, and I didn't really want to bleed all over my clothes. I was just stuck on my throne for over three hours trapped in my bathroom. Thankfully, the cramps weren't as bad as I thought, but I was getting really concerned on how much blood was coming out. It was a steady flow continually. 

I was talking to my Mom and we talked about what hemorrhaging was like and I remember reading that if I'm lightheaded, dizzy, or start to feel nauseated is when I should go in. The flow was being inconsistent around 5:30 p.m. so I thought that I should be fine and that I didn't need to go in. 

Around 6 it picked up again and Spencer asked if I wanted any dinner. To be fair I hadn't really eaten a whole lot, and I was feeling a little sick as the cramps were getting worse.

All of a sudden around 6:30 was when it was from okay to awful. (I had been bleeding a lot for four hours then, flushing repeatedly.) Spencer was still feeding Lewis dinner in the kitchen. I started to feel nauseous to where I texted him for Zofran. Then immediately after I texted "I'm feeling lightheaded." "Help" The rest was a blur, as Spencer rushed in with lemon heads (which helped with minimal nausea earlier in the pregnancy). I passed out on his shoulder and I felt ringing in my ears. Apparently he was trying to get me to drink water and putting the water bottle straw in my mouth and talking to me loudly, but I didn't hear any of it. I was completely blacked out.

Once I came back, Spencer asked if I was okay and I said no and told him to call his Mom to come here as we needed to go to the hospital. I tried to throw up in the trash can but nothing was in my stomach. While that was happening, he first called the hospital where I was having my prenatal appointments and they told him to get me on my back with my feet elevated. I stumbled to the bed with his help. They told him to call 911 to get sent to the ER. During all the whirlwind we were able to get his Mom here to put Lewis to bed. I could hardly walk downstairs and to our garage. Spencer had to steady me as I was feeling very lightheaded and nauseated (because no thank you to the ambulance cost).

We got to the ER at 7:30, and a lot of our visit was waiting. The nurse hooked me up to a blood pressure monitor and got an IV ready. An ambulance arrived so the nurse left to help them. While we were waiting I felt very cold and I started to shake and chatter my teeth. Spencer kept my legs elevated while we waited and tried to keep me calm. My blood pressure and heart rate kept fluctuating and I started to cry because I was scared. I didn't know why and what was happening to me. I asked myself, "Do I need a blood transfusion? I saw so much blood leave my body..."

The nurse came back after 20-30 minutes and an ultrasound specialist came around 8:30 to see what was happening during this part of the miscarriage. She heard that I was cold, so she brought two warm blankets to use which was very much appreciated! She didn't say anything pertaining to what she was seeing during the ultrasounds, but she was really nice and gentle. I ended up getting an abdominal and transvaginal ultrasound which wasn't unpleasant as the first one I got over two weeks ago. After she was done she said that the radiologist had to look over the images and tell us the results. 

More waiting, the doctor finally came in around 9:30 and he asked what happened (which I feel I've had to repeat multiple times since being there.) He pressed on my abdomen and checked my heart. After that, the nurse took more blood for labs, then hooked me up to a saline. She said my hemoglobin levels were at a 12, which meant I didn't need a blood transfusion. The doctor gave me a pelvic exam around 9:45-10 p.m. He said that we were waiting for the ultrasound results and we would go from there. Then we just waited. And waited. And waited. I told Spencer I hoped to leave before midnight. Spencer didn't think that would be an issue.

A nurse came in around 10:30 to change my saline bag and admitted to me that the ultrasound results shouldn't take two hours to process (there was a sign on the wall that said, "Ultrasound...... Two hours") But she didn't have any updates for us. At 10:50 I relented and pressed the call button to see if the head nurse knew anything. She checked with the doctor and said he was getting the ultrasound results. At 11:00 he came in and asked how I was feeling, and I bluntly stated I was tired and I wanted to go home. He told us to monitor the situation for the next 24 hours, but that we could go home after he wrote the discharge papers. More waiting. The nurse came in at 11:30 saying that he was writing them right now and thanked us for being patient. 

When we left the hospital I was still feeling a little lightheaded, but I was very excited to go home and get the much needed sleep. Spencer is an amazing husband and let me sleep in until 10 a.m. today even though he didn't get great sleep the last two nights. Today has been better, it's just felt like a normal period with sharp cramps once my medicine is wearing off. Emotionally I am fine, as I have been processing this miscarriage for over two weeks. I am looking forward to having our rainbow baby whenever he or she comes.

~~~

These are the things that women feel shy to talk about, but so many of us go through it. But it's a natural part of life that we should not be ashamed about. While I am aware that many of us grieve differently, and it is more than acceptable to not talk about it to everyone, I am not that type of person to hold it in.

When I told some of my close friends I was pregnant early on, I had no idea that they would be the support system to help me through my miscarriage. As some of them had already gone through one themselves. For them I am so grateful that I did not have to do this alone. One of my friends who is also a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints let me borrow the book "Gone Too Soon" which is written by an author of our church. I had been reading it the past week and it has given me comfort through this experience. 

One of the purposes I blog (often during the hard times) is to bright to light that being a parent is hard. If you find what I have to say is important enough that you're reading this right now, and if you (or your significant other) is going through a miscarriage or any similar experience that I've written about, I am more than happy to help you through it. I can either listen or give advice, but I don't want my friends to go through these types of things alone. I'm here for you.

For the Moms Who Think Being A Mom Shouldn't Be This Hard (Part Two) #DestigmatizeMentalHealth

I think 2020 has been one of the hardest years of my life. While I'm sure that's been the case for a lot of people, mine has been a little different. To those who haven't read my last blog post from July 2020, this isn't going to make much sense. I would highly recommend reading it before reading this one. In all honesty, I'm not writing this for you. I'm writing it for me as a part of my therapy. More Moms need to know that it's okay to not be okay, and that sometimes they need a little extra help after giving birth. I denied that for so long, so hopefully my story will help other Moms out there to take care of themselves and not put themselves last.

~~~A continuation of July and so forth~~~

As Lewis was recovering from his mouth operation, he needed me more than ever. Since his mouth was sore, he couldn't nurse as long he wanted to when he was hungry. His mouth hurt, which meant he wanted to nurse for comfort. But even that was painful, so the tedious cycle continued round and round. I kid you not when I say he wanted to nurse every twenty minutes when he was awake. I was trapped and I felt like I couldn't do anything. I couldn't get a break because Lewis refused a bottle for an entire week after his operation. We were up at Snowbird for that week and I couldn't do anything fun because he was nursing all the time. As I continued to time how long he nursed, it was still apparent that if he didn't hit a certain number, he would cry and go to bed hungry.

The months passed, and Lewis fought to learn how to nurse properly. I gave up a few times and thought to myself that this would be a labor of love and that I would never enjoy breastfeeding him. While I saw many other Moms who had their babies on a schedule to nurse every 2-3 hours, Lewis was still snacking as he nursed. He continued to nurse every 20-30 minutes and I felt like I was at his beck and call every minute of the day. My depression came back as bad as it was back around March since there was nothing to blame as his ties were released.

Finally, I had enough and I was on the verge of yet another mental breakdown the first Thursday in October. I even posted on my Breastfeeding Support Group that I wanted to quit and that I was done. I was advised the typical, "Don't quit breastfeeding on a bad day." I rolled my eyes because I've heard it time and time again, but I thought it must make some sense as I might regret it later on. I decided to see another lactation consultant to see if she could help me not hate nursing so much. There weren't any available appointments until Monday, so I had to wait it out until after that appointment to see if I wanted to quit.

I was so glad as I went, as I needed someone to tell me that I'm allowed to not give into Lewis wanting to nurse every 20 minutes. I remember I told her that I wanted my life back. She told me to try every two hours. If he protests before the two hour mark to give him a full bottle instead. That way I can be confident that he's not hungry. It was a hard adjustment at first, but Lewis and I were happier with this new arrangement. I was always under the impression that I was going to have to exclusively pump, or exclusively breastfeed, I never thought about doing both. It seemed to be a win-win situation! She gave me other advice on how to get Lewis to stop snacking and it worked. Feeding Lewis in the dark right when he woke up was the solution that I needed. The lactation consultant also gave me the confidence that Lewis would be able to nurse correctly soon, as it takes older babies to adjust from their oral ties release. I started to feel more hopeful about my life and I didn't feel so depressed.

Lewis has his nine month appointment in September. I prepared for it by writing a letter to my pediatrician. I wanted to inform her how her misdiagnosis severely affected me. I adjusted the last blog post into a letter to give her the details of what I went through those last nine months. I begged her not to diagnose whether or not babies had lip or tongue ties and provided a list of pediatric dentists and IBCLCs that had the training to properly do so. I was so anxious to give her this letter at his appointment and I didn't know what to expect. 

Unfortunately, the worst possible scenario happened. As I gave her the letter, I watched her eyes dart back and forth down the page. I knew she wasn't reading it word for word and glanced at the second page. She replied, "So, Lewis had a lip tie?" "Yes." "Did he have a tongue tie?" "Yes" "When did he get them fixed?" (I thought to myself, if you had read the letter, you would know that answer.) "July 17th." She started to monologue about how there's not a lot of research on oral ties, and it depends on the baby on whether ties should be revised or not. She also claimed that if she notices a tie that they clip them right there in the office when they're a newborn. (I also thought, well then why didn't we get his oral ties fixed when he was ten days old?!) As she was making all of these excuses, I was dumbfounded. I had no idea what to say to her because this specific scenario was not one of the scenarios I played out in my head. I was waiting for her to say, "I'm sorry for all of the pain that you experienced," or "I'm sorry that I didn't catch his lip and tongue tie." Any variation of an apology would have been worth so much to me. But I didn't receive one. She thanked us twice for the list of recommended providers, but that was it.

After the appointment, I just spiraled and hit rock bottom. I felt so discouraged that she didn't care that I trusted her with her diagnosis and that it was wrong. I was also mad at myself, for not trusting my intuition and that so much could have been different. I would have never have needed to go to a chiropractor, physical therapy, and all of these experiences that brought me so much grief. I thought, "Does my experience not matter to her? Does my life not matter? All the additional 1000 hours of nursing Lewis not matter? Does my pain and grief not matter?" I felt so insignificant and useless. I wish I had spoken up and told her as we left, "Will you please read the entire letter when you get the chance?" But I didn't. I regretted it and thought I should speak up for myself and for Lewis. I felt sick to my stomach.

That same day as I was recounting my experience to one of my good friends, I received some wise words from her:

"Our stories are not meant for everyone. Hearing them is a privilege, and we should always ask ourselves this before we share: Who has earned the right to hear my story?" - Brene Brown 

This made me feel better about my regret in not asking her to read the entire letter. I've tried my hardest to show her to not repeat her mistakes so there aren't any future moms out there that have to go through what I did... But I can't force someone to change. I can offer my advice and they can either accept it or not. Since then, we have changed pediatricians and I will never go back to her ever again. 

In November, I was still feeling really depressed, but in denial that I needed professional help. On my birthday I decided to recommit to praying and reading scriptures every single day. The only music I listened to was Christian Rock to remind me of our Savior. It helped a little bit, but it didn't do as much as I hoped. I did it every single day for over two months, but I was still really unhappy and depressed.

As Lewis got closer to one year, the more and more I missed eating dairy. As I had a plethora of negative emotions towards breastfeeding, I wanted to be done with it. I started to wean Lewis off one nursing session each week to the point where I was only nursing him twice a day.

At the beginning of January, I had another breakdown and I was finally convinced I needed professional help after Spencer gave me a blessing that same day. I saw one my PA's from my 6 week postpartum check-up mid-Janaury and we talked about how I was doing. I told her all about how I experienced thrush, Lewis' reflux, dairy allergy, and the misdiagnosis of his oral ties. She told me even experiencing one of those things would have warranted postpartum depression, but the fact that I had all of them was extreme. She was very grateful that I was there and suggested an antidepressant so I could combat my postpartum depression.

I've been on Zoloft for 2.5 weeks now, and I'm feeling A LOT better. Once the medication started to kick in, I thought more and more about breastfeeding. "Did I truly want to wean Lewis completely? Lewis has been drinking Ripple milk, but it's really expensive. Do I want to add two additional servings of Ripple milk to his everyday diet...?" "Lewis has also been sad that he's not nursing as often, do I really want to stop altogether...?" "I heard that breastmilk can help fight COVID really well if we do happen to get it. What if we get COVID and I'm no longer nursing...?"

All of these thoughts and more weighed heavily on my mind. I also realized that I nursed Lewis for an entire year because I felt that I 'had' to and I had nothing but a negative experience. But now that I'm only nursing him twice a day, I don't actually hate it. In fact, I feel like stopping right now would be even sadder because it would be a new phase of Lewis' life. I would really feel like Lewis isn't a baby anymore who doesn't need me in that way anymore. I decided to stop weaning Lewis because I WANT TO breastfeed past one year. I'll continue to have those happy bonding moments with him. In a way, continuing nursing is a way to help me heal from this last year. Hopefully, as this continues, I'll be able to have more positive experiences to outweigh the bad. I don't know when I'll stop, but I'll cross that bridge when Lewis and I get to it.

To all the Moms out there who may feel the way that I do, or have gone through similar experiences: If you even need someone to talk to, I'm here. Even if we haven't talked in ten years, I will be more than happy to listen to you vent or even give advice (with the one year of experience that I have). It takes a village to raise a child, but it also takes a good support group to help Moms succeed in doing just that.

For The Moms Who Think Breastfeeding Shouldn't Be This Hard (An Update of my Life)

It's been a long six months.

But I persevered. It was difficult from the very beginning. I met with a lactation consultant the day after Lewis was born. She taught me the basics of breastfeeding, gave me some pamphlets, and sent me on my way. I was timing how long each session was (30-45 minutes from start to finish). Lewis struggled to stay awake while nursing and she assured me that this was normal. We just needed to take off his onesie and tickle his feet as he fed.

The struggle continued. My parents came into town to help Spencer and I transition into parenthood. We noticed that Lewis struggled to burp. A lot. My Dad was considered the "burp master" and even he couldn't get him to burp. We woke him up every 3-4 hours during the night to feed as Lewis struggled to get back to his birth weight (babies lose 10-15% of their weight after they're born). This was hard on Spencer and me.  I had a hard recovery ahead of me with my second-degree tear and three other tears, so he did most of the leg work. We were blessed that he got 8 weeks of paid paternity leave. We unswaddled him, took off his sleeper, and tried to get him to eat on one side. Then we tried to get him to burp. Over and over. And over and over. And over. Then he switched to the other side, repeat. Sometimes we were up for over an hour and a half. Then I struggled to fall back asleep.

To add more fuel to the fire, Lewis developed thrush at ten days old. My heart sank - no dropped, to the floor. Breastfeeding hurt even more. I wanted to throw in the towel so bad, but I persisted. I wanted to make it to one year so bad! If not, at least 6 months. I read online that it's possible that babies who get thrush could have a lip/tongue tie. We went to our pediatrician office to get medication for both of us. As she was inspecting Lewis's thrush I asked if he had a lip tie. She checked him and said that he was fine. Spencer and I both thought something was wrong, but I wasn't going to question our pediatrician.

Nystatin (the orally ingested thrush medication prescribed for him) created another, worse hurdle for us to overcome: acid reflux. Lewis did not take well to it and he began to spit up on everything even more. On Spencer, on me, in our bed, in his crib. Google was my handy dandy best friend so we learned to keep him upright for 15-20 minutes before putting him back down to sleep. I remember getting as little as one hour and 9 minutes before having to get him up again in the middle of the night. Those two weeks of him getting back up to birth weight plus the extra week of us both getting over thrush were HARD. But the acid reflux continued. He lived in sleepers for the first 2-3 months of his life as he kept spitting up on his clothes (and us) over and over again. We didn't want to take the time to pull a onesie over his head five times a day when we could just zip him up in a sleeper. There would be days where I would say, "It has been x days since he has last projectile vomited on me." I celebrated when he had gone more than two days sincevomiting.

The acid reflux didn't improve after we put him on acid reflux medication. It just continued. But we were told that reflux was normal when it came to newborns and that he'd grow out of it. I hated trying to burp Lewis on my shoulder. I wasn't getting anything out of him and it seemed pointless. Spencer would try and he seemed to do better at it. I even googled how to burp a difficult newborn and tried all of the methods that I read. There wasn't much relief found in those plethoras of Google pages. Sometimes they worked, but mostly they were a fruitless effort. I'm not exaggerating where I remember when Spencer was gone doing errands and I was trying to burp Lewis for ONE SOLID HOUR and I couldn't get anything out. The problem was, Lewis was incapable of continuing to feed if he had trapped air in his stomach. But I knew he was hungry, and I didn't want to starve my own child.

After my six week postpartum check-up, I went to see the lactation consultant because I was so lost. Lewis was spitting up so much milk, I was wondering if I was overfeeding him. I fire hosed her with a bunch of questions and all she did was check to make sure he was latching well. He ended up feeding perfectly for her (which never happens). She gave me some tips and sent me on my way. I remember she told me to never unlatch him because he'd do that when he was ready. Except why did he keep unlatching over and over again? Ironically enough, Lewis did manage to spit up all over her office before we left.

Not even two months after Lewis was born, he was diagnosed with cows milk protein allergy. I've been lactose intolerant since 2013-2014, and I was officially diagnosed in 2015. God was preparing me for his allergy, I couldn't give up breastfeeding now! Things started to make sense. The acid reflux medication wasn't helping because he was projectile vomiting from me consuming dairy. He wasn't burping as well because of his allergy. Soon after I went completely dairy-free, things were starting to look up. Things started to make more sense. His acid reflux started to improve the longer I went dairy-free. He was also easier to burp once he no longer had dairy in his system, and his gut was healing from the dairy. I finally had something to blame for my troubles and difficulties.

Unfortunately, though we saw some improvement, Lewis still didn't get back to normal. I accidentally consumed dairy through cross-contamination at Wendy's, Red Robin, and he consumed it through his oral vaccinations. Lewis would take a really long time to eat whenever he was awake, and I would always make the excuse of his dairy allergy, reflux, teething, or starting solids being the reason.

Within the last three weeks, there were a few turning points that finally made me think that enough was enough.

First, Lewis has been sitting upright. He understands that he can burp himself. This is a good and bad thing. When I put him on my shoulder to pat his back, I have about a 10% success rate when it comes to getting a burp out of him. This led to me just waiting for him to burp himself. If I got impatient and tried to feed him, he would have trapped air in his stomach and he would spit up all over me. 

Second, I asked one of my Facebook Mom groups if anyone had any problems with their baby burping if they had gotten 'dairyed'. Since I thought that he was easier to burp when we were dairy-free, and harder to burp when his digestive system was damaged. Bless this Mom, but she asked if his latch was good, as he would be inhaling excessive air if it was bad. That resulted in me trying to make sure he was latching well for about a week. Well, that didn't really work so well.

Third, I was seeing everywhere that one is supposed to introduce solids one hour after a feed. I was confused. How am I supposed to introduce solids when on average takes me over an hour to make sure Lewis is eating enough? Sometimes it would take the entire wake window to try and get him to burp and he wouldn't. He was only awake on average for 2 hours. Something must not be right here.

An example of a feed:

10:07 a.m. 1 minute (this could be anywhere from 1:01 to 1:59)

10:08 11 seconds

10:19 19 seconds

10:30 27 seconds

10:31 6 seconds

10:32 14 seconds

10:33 4 seconds

10:40 1 minute

10:42 1 minute

10:53 4 seconds

I tried again later...

11:16 13 seconds

11:18 5 seconds

...and again.

11:42 3 minutes

11:46 5 seconds

11:46 5 seconds

11:57 56 seconds

11:58 11 seconds

11:59 8 seconds

12:00 25 seconds

I know what you're thinking, "Emily, why are you forcing Lewis to eat when it's obvious that he's not hungry?" Well, I've been tracking how much he eats for his entire life. I've noticed that if he eats any less than 9-11 minutes in between naps, he's hungry right before he goes down for a nap and whines. (This number also goes down the older he gets as he gets more efficient.) If I gave up and try to put him down for a nap before 9 minutes, he would cry until I get him up and feed him. This pushed his nap back, he got overtired and didn't sleep well. Time and time again. 

Lastly, as Lewis got older, becoming more aware, I noticed him getting really frustrated that he couldn't eat like he wanted. He got really cranky, and my frustration fed off of his. I started to do some research and saw the Lip and Tongue Tip Support Facebook Group. I joined it and started to read through all of the posts. That's when I realized, "Spencer and I were right all along, he has a lip tie!" A wave of relief went over my body - to the point of tears. I finally knew the missing piece to the puzzle. His lip tie has been causing him to swallow excessive air, his difficulty to burp, and his bad reflux. I remember seeing Moms nurse with a cover not having to fight to get their baby to eat, and realized that is how it's supposed to be.

On the 17th of July, we took Lewis to a pediatric dentist and confirmed he had lip and tongue ties. We got those ties released on the same day and started on the road to recovery. Lewis had to learn how to feed all over again, using different muscles. If we had gotten this done when we originally suspected lip tie at two weeks, I wouldn't have had to go through so much pain. Lewis would have only had to forget two weeks of experience instead of 6 1/2 months.  While it wasn't a fix overnight, Lewis is improving and I'm not spending 6+ hours a day trying to feed him anymore. Lewis did not begin eating correctly until he was over 6 months old. Spencer did the math. I spent an extra 1,000 hours trying to feed/burp Lewis because of his lip and tongue tie. 1,000 hours of patience, frustration, love, and heartache.

Since Lewis was on my shoulder for so long day after day trying to get those impossible burps out, I had to resort to bi-weekly chiropractic adjustments since Lewis was 2 1/2 months old. At the end of April, I started to go to physical therapy bi-weekly as my body was breaking. It literally hurt to pick up Lewis from his swing, his crib, or even off the ground. I felt hopeless and depressed, thinking I was an incapable mother who couldn't even care for her own child. Spencer had to help me in everything that I did. While COVID-19 has been an awful and scary experience, I am so grateful that Spencer has been working from home because of it. Since if he hadn't, I would have injured my weakened body even more. 

 

I didn't think motherhood was supposed to be this hard. We didn't understand everyone who was telling me that "this" was "normal" when we most definitely didn't think it was. We believe that everyone should take first-time parents more seriously. But, I have learned a lot from these last six months. God has put all of these trials in my path and I am shocked to know how far I can stretch and grow. I didn't know I had all of this patience when it came to breastfeeding. As I was reading more about lip ties, the majority of moms who were unaware of their baby having a lip tie switch to formula after struggling for up to 1-2 months. I don't blame any of those moms for doing what they had to do, because it's been hard. But I am so glad that we finally figured out the main reason why I've been struggling these past six months. I'm glad that I didn't quit.

I "graduated" from physical therapy today. It has been a long, fulfilling three months. I no longer feel hopeless, depressed, or incapable as a Mom. I feel stronger, full of hope for the future, and that I can handle being a mom. It's been a long journey as I've progressed in being independent and taking care of Lewis by myself. But for Lewis, I would go through anything. Here's to the next six months.

What's in a Name?

It's been exactly three years since a very important milestone happened to me. It all started Fall semester in 2016 where I took my first family history-genealogy class at BYU.

We had to search through our family tree to  for our semester project. I came across this infant who didn't have a first name or a gender. All I knew was the infant's last name- Potter.

I saw my cousin, Chelsie who had found the gravestone of his birth and death in 1893, along with the child's parents names. She searched diligently, but couldn't find Potter's name or gender. We both felt like he was a boy, but had no record of it.

I searched countless microfilm church records in Omaha, Nebraska in hopes of finding a christening record, but no luck. I felt defeated, but Potter always came to the front of my mind as I did family history each time. I knew that he desperately wanted to be together with his family. There would be random times throughout the week where I would hear a voice pop into my mind pleading, "Don't forget about me!" I vowed that I wouldn't.

The semester came and went with no progress. During the next semester, I was reminded the census records sometimes show the street where families lived. Unfortunately, the 1890 U.S. census was burned. Therefore, I had to rely on the 1900 U.S. census instead. I prayed that the parents hadn't moved in those 7 years after his birth.

I was in luck! I found out where the parents lived, and started to search for churches that were established before 1893 and within a one mile radius of where the Potters lived. There was one particular Catholic church that fit those two requirements. I emailed them with the information that I had, and patiently waited.

By the time I had given up on the search a couple months later, I received an email from them when I was in one of my history classes. I read the email explaining that they had found a record of a boy named Lewis Potter, the ancestor that I had been looking for. There was a burst of joy inside my heart, and I wanted to shout it to the world! Unfortunately, due to being in class I was unable to.

A couple days later on 16 February 2017, Spencer, Chelsie, her husband Dylan, and I went to the temple to seal Lewis to his parents- Michael and Viola. The feeling that we had in that room was so indescribable- full of love and happiness. I hadn't felt that much joy since I was sealed to Spencer. I felt the Potter's witnessing their son to be sealed to them forever. I couldn't hold back the tears because I could feel the immense joy of this family. I knew that Lewis Potter was so grateful for all the hard work and effort I had put into finding him.

This experience made me decide to change my major to family history that same evening. Lewis Potter is a kindred spirit. He left such a big impact on our lives, Spencer suggested the name the day we found out we were having a boy. I hadn't even thought of Lewis as an option, but it felt like a good way to commemorate my ancestors. I can't wait to meet him in the spirit world. I bet my son had already met him before he came to this world.

And that's why I to graduated in Family History-Genealogy. To bring together families and create joy. Without this experience, I'm not sure Spencer and I would have agreed on a name together. But thankfully this experience also led us to name our son Lewis Wesley Hoffman, after Lewis Potter. We couldn't have come up with a better name for him!

Our New Beginning

On January 6th, I had my 39 week check up. A check up I never thought I'd go to since none of my sisters have made it past 38 weeks and 4 days with any of their pregnancies. I even told my OB that I didn't think I'd make it and I think she agreed with me. I predicted that Lewis would be born on January 3rd, but that day came and went. Spencer and I were trying to naturally induce labor by going on walks, eating spicy food, bouncing up and down on a rickety playground bridge, the works! 

At my 39 week appointment, she checked and said that I was dilated to a 5, and fully effaced. I told her that I desperately wanted to be induced, and we were even ready to go downstairs to start the induction after the appointment. Originally she mentioned Thursday, but we ended up planning for Tuesday, January 7th. The 7th sounds like a good day for a birthday! We were told to call Labor and Delivery at 6 am to see when we should go in. 

Although I took melatonin before bed, I only managed to get 3 hours of sleep. I couldn't get comfortable as my body was aching all over, unable to find a comfortable sleeping position for more than 5 minutes. Spencer tried his best to help me fall asleep, but Lewis kept moving around that kept me up. He was having a dance party because he knew he was being born soon! From 5-6 am, I was up because he had the hiccups the entire time, moving my stomach around.

I checked the clock at 5:58 and I accepted the fact that that was all the sleep I was going to get. I didn't dare to check my Fitbit to see how much sleep I got since I knew I had a long day ahead of me. I called Labor and Delivery and they told us to be there at 7:45 am. Spencer made us waffles as I was supposed to have a light breakfast.

In the car, I called them again and apologized for being late, but that we were going to get there at 8 am. They laughed and said not to worry, and that they’ll be expecting us. We got there and had to do a ton of paperwork. I got into my gown and they started to hook me up to a bunch of machines. One for my contractions and one for Lewis’s heart rate. They also took my blood so they could compare my blood levels post labor.

Shortly after being hooked up I was told that I just had a contraction. I soon learned that I was naturally having contractions 7 minutes apart. I was confused since I didn’t feel like I was having contractions. I was so used to Lewis kicking me so much, I just thought those moments of discomfort were him moving around. So if I had waited for 24-48 more hours, I could have had him naturally and it could have been pretty bad. I may have had him in the car since I could not tell what the contractions felt like. I feel really lucky that I decided to be induced even if it seemed a little silly with how far along I was. I had two really intense contractions the Saturday previous, so that’s what I was looking for when it comes to timing contractions. Looking back, my OB told me that if I was having contractions 7-8 minutes apart for 30-45 minutes, lasting 30-45 seconds, I should come to the hospital right away. I don't think I was having them for that long, but it seemed like I was going to have Lewis with or without the induction soon!

I was pretty worried about getting my IV, since having a tube in me constantly was pretty nerve wracking. But we had a really good nurse named Jen and she did a stellar job. She told me that she was going to inject some numbing fluid so it wouldn’t hurt as bad. I thought the IV was more like a 2 out of 10. But I really didn’t like looking at the IV so I hid it. It was around 9 am by the time it was in. So. Much. Fluid.

After that, they checked to see how far along I was, and I was still dilated to 5 cm. They needed to see how far away I was from 10, so being halfway wasn't too shabby! The Pitocin was placed in my IV around 9:30 am. I was pretty bored most of the time while I was slowly learning what a contraction felt like. It was interesting since I could feel them coming before the monitor showed it appearing like mountains. I never realized how slowly this part of the induction takes.

(The timing on everything gets all blurry from here. I just know the epidural and getting my waters broken was an hour apart.)

I got my epidural around 1? pm, and honesty it was NOT that bad. The anesthesiologist was super nice and talked me through everything. I was slouched over a table on the side of the bed while he numbed me up real good. I was very still, and I’m pretty proud of myself since people kept saying how big of a needle it is. Good thing I didn’t see it! That probably would have freaked me out if I did.

When Jen and my OB were getting ready to break my water around 2? pm, they looked at me and said that my water was leaking. I admitted to them that since I was getting so much fluid from the IVs, I just thought it was urine! I still don’t know if my waters started to break because of the cervix check at the very beginning, or if it was honest to goodness breaking naturally. They checked to see if I had any progress, and I was now 6 cm dilated. Now, we continued to wait. 

As the contractions got worse, I focused on them more as they were more uncomfortable. I’m not entirely sure how long after my water broke before I needed to get a second dosage of my epidural. I had two particularly awful contractions that brought me to tears. I was feeling the contraction in my lower back and in the front so I was in a lot of pain. Once the second dose started to kick in, I got really sleepy. They told me to rest on my side and it was great! I didn’t feel any contractions, despite them getting more and more intense. Spencer was watching them on the monitor and I wasn’t stirring at all. The beauty of an epidural. I was hoping I’d get some sleep, but since I was constantly hooked up to a blood pressure monitor that didn’t happen. It continually took my blood pressure every 10 minutes or so. I was completely dilated 7 minutes to 4 pm.

My nurse Jen predicted that Lewis was going to be born around 6 pm. I really hoped that she was wrong because I did not want to wait that long! I was also getting bored of drinking juice and eating jello for my diet. I wanted something else. I was completely

At 4:15 pm was the time to push. Since Lewis was so low, everyone in the room saw his head quickly after the first attempt. I asked Spencer later on about my pushing, and he told me I was progressing toward crowning with each push. Jen told me when to deeply inhale (and hold) and then push for ten seconds during each contraction. Then I'd rest in between each contraction. We did this for a few contractions. I felt like blood veins were popping out of my forehead. I kept getting encouragement that I was doing great. I wasn't sure if they were lying to me or if they meant it. I even said that out loud and they said they were being honest.

Jen told someone to get my OB and she asked Jen if I was crowning. She said no, but that I would be soon. During the next contraction my OB asked to push and I did. She exclaimed, "Wow, you're a good pusher." They got my legs up in this contraption so they were more stable and others didn't have to hold them up. Spencer got into his gown along with everyone else since we planned on him catching Lewis. They started to prep all of the equipment, tables, etc., and to me that felt like FOREVER.

Funnily enough, I really wanted him born at 4:37 (also Spencer's prediction) and saw the clock at 4:35 pm. I thought, "that's not going to happen". He was literally born at 4:37:58 with a little cry as his head appeared. There was a pause, and then the rest of his body came out in the same push. I thought, “That’s it?” It’s AMAZING how epidurals work, since I didn’t feel a THING. (But I now feel everything with this recovery.) I think Spencer started to catch Lewis as his body descended. I'm sure he was super slippery! It was pretty cool that he was able to experience that. I would have felt a little silly if he was holding my hand as I pushed, which was my original idea. Births on TV are so unrealistic...

Lewis was put on my abdomen with a towel around him. I don't remember who cleaned him up, but they did that quickly as I stroked his head and little arms. He was pretty precious looking. :) Lewis held my left thumb as I touched his hand and didn't let go at all until he had to get measured and weighed. I thought it was super sweet as him holding my thumb calmed him down. Someone announced that Lewis' Apgar score was 9/10, only a point off because his hands and feet were a little purple. Another someone (same someone?) mentioned that they've only seen three babies with that score. I guess Lewis is pretty perfect!

We got to do skin to skin for over an hour. I don't remember really much of anything specific post labor other than it was great. :) The placenta was delivered easily, Spencer cut the cord, Lewis fed for the first time, and they had to stitch me up for over 45 minutes. Spencer also did skin to skin and it was happy to see him be an official father for the first time. And that was the start of our new beginning.
Total labor time: 7 hours and 47 minutes

Pregnancy Brain At Its Worst (Best?)

Pregnancy Brain— the feeling of forgetfulness, inattention, and mental fogginess that sometimes accompanies pregnancy— is a common complaint.

I thought I was bad when it came to pregnancy brain in the second trimester, but earlier this week I had a series of events one day that really indicated that I'm losing it.

The first indicator: (Slightly TMI depending on who you are.) I nonchalantly threw my pad into the clean toilet instead of the trash can next to the toilet. I stopped and took a double take on what I had just done.

Why in the world did I do that?! -huffy sigh- I grudgingly fished it out and threw it into the trash where it belongs.

Not even two minutes later, I was doing a poor job of paying attention while plugging my phone into an outlet near the bathroom sink. Things went flying. The soap falls into the sink, my toothbrush almost falls into the trash, and my small hair claw jumps its way into the toilet.

I mutter to myself how ridiculous this was. I snatched the floating hair claw and threw it into the trash as I had many to spare as I had no desire to wash it.

I plugged in my phone since I wanted to use it while taking a bath to help my aches and pains. I turn on the shower to create some steam and went back to texting my Mom.

...But I had forgotten one important detail. About five minutes later I look over, wondering why the tub wasn't filling up at all.

I realized I didn't plug the tub in the first place! No wonder why starting this bath was so easy! Usually I have to put some work into plugging the tub, or I have to ask Spencer to plug it for me. I sighed in defeat and decided that my brain is not working as well as it used to.

Later on in the evening, I didn't even notice my pregnancy brain until Spencer mentioned it to me. I was craving some onion rings, so naturally, we made onion rings.

I put them nicely on the cookie sheet while the oven was preheating... and then walked away to go do something else.

The funny thing is after I left the kitchen I set a timer on my phone to flip the onion rings halfway through. Ironically, I can't remember if I assumed Spencer was going to put the onion rings into the oven after it had finished preheating (but apparently it had finished while I was putting them on the sheet) or if I thought I had put them in the oven myself. I can't remember.

As we were flipping the onion rings, I told Spencer that I usually don't put the onion rings in for the whole 15-18 minutes. I usually take them out early because they're usually done by then. He asked me if they were good when I take them out *x amount of time* early. ...I repeated my most common phrase, "I don't remember."

I can't wait for this pregnancy brain to go away!