Cherishing Motherhood

Here she is! Mira Lovisa Graham was born at 12:09 AM on February 17, 2010. She was 20" long and weighed 8'12". I promise to have more and better photos soon, but here are some glimpses of our Mira with her siblings and by herself. If you're a facebook friend, please forgive the repeats.





Mira is a sweet, tender-hearted little girl, and we love her so much. When you are bonding with her, she looks deep into your eyes, and she's seems very perceptive and almost thoughtful at times. More than any of my other babies, she seems rather sensitive to light and other stimulus, which has been a little challenging at times with all of her admirers. Still, she's becoming more accustomed to all of the excitement, and we are enjoying getting to know her more and more.

Becoming a mother of four has been, hands down, the most humbling experience of my life. I have never done anything to deserve such a privilege, and I'm mindful of how blessed I am to have 4 healthy little monkeys entrusted to David and me. I'm confident that so many could do this better, just as so many were better missionaries than I was and are more deserving of the blessings I enjoy. Oddly enough, God doesn't always measure out responsibilities based on skill or qualification. It amazes me how he often puts great, difficult, humbling works into the hands of the least qualified with the promise that He'll assist us in our work.

Of course, if you're anything like me, then you might often forget that He will assist you. Or you might have difficulty seeing His assistance as you receive it. I'll try to work on this.

Where is this coming from? Well, there is one thing that has always eluded me in some way and which hits a very sore spot in my heart. Well, of course motherhood is one thing, silly! But, no, this thing is smaller and is less significant, and yet my experiences with it have brought disappointment and pain that run deeper each time I've encountered it. I can only rejoice in the fact that I'll never encounter it again (unless I'm mistaken and there is another spirit waiting to join our family. But, no, I believe we're done). The thing I'm talking about is: breast-feeding.

Family members and good friends are probably rolling their eyes in unison, and I'm sorry to bring it up. I don't plan to ever again on this blog, and I'll try to stop bringing it up in conversations with friends, family, or even a whole Relief Society class. :) But nursing has been one of the most humbling challenges I've tried to tackle in my life, and it's something over which I've shed many, many tears.

Let me explain why it's so emotional. You see, when I had Sophie, there were so many difficulties with nursing. I had poor education, poor obstetrical care that affected my ability to produce a good milk supply, a small but annoying health issue, etc. There were enough issues and I made enough mistakes from the beginning that when Sophie was 6 weeks old, she refused the breast, and I stopped fighting to make nursing work. I pumped until she was 3 months old and then let go, and she was a happy, healthy bottle-fed baby. With Aidan, I didn't make the same mistakes, my body worked better, and I was determined to overcome whatever obstacle came my way - for four months at least. Our bout with yeast (which we had also had with Sophie) was brief and quickly resolved. And when we learned that Aidan had a dairy sensitivity so dramatic that he had bloody stools, I stuck it out and avoided dairy for the next few months.

At 4 months, though, I was exhausted, starving, struggling with post-partum depression, and dying for sleep. After much consideration and prayer, we switched Aidan to the bottle, and he and I both thrived better. I was grateful to have nursed him for that long, and I forgave myself for the mistakes I made with Sophie.

When Ian came, I hoped to pass four months, but I only made it to two months. He was a sleepy eater, had a dairy sensitivity as well (though not quite as dramatic as Aidan's), he gained slowly after the first month, and again I found myself anxious and overwhelmed. When David had a two day business trip, and Ian had begun wanting to feed every 1 1/2 hours for a good week, I broke down and offered him a bottle. We weaned him shortly after, and again he and I both thrived better. I was grateful to have done the first two months. I'm sure I mourned a bit, but Ian quickly started sleeping amazingly, and I couldn't mourn over that. So we moved on, and he was a happy baby.

With Mira I think a part of me had been convinced that if I could have an uncomplicated birth (for a change) and nurse a baby right away, we'd have a better start, the baby would nurse better, my supply would be stronger, and we'd have avoided half of the problems. So I was very focused on Mira's birth, and I failed to analyze the challenges of my previous experiences and really come up with a specific plan to avoid them in the future.

I could've hired some help for the first weeks to make life less stressful. I could've planned out my diet better, because I knew (and was right) that the baby would be sensitive to dairy (plus dairy fosters yeast in those prone to it). I could have wall mounted the pressure gate sooner to keep Ian in more control during feedings. I could have read a good book on nursing (I had hoped to get one). I could've pumped after each feeding for the first two weeks to get my milk flowing better and ensure a good milk supply. I could've called a friend and gotten childcare when we hit some bumps with Mira so that I could see a lactation consultant and bombard them with questions. I could've tried to get out of the house more earlier on, because the isolation of the first weeks (and being underclothed and chilly in mostly dark rooms most of the time) was not helpful for my emotional state. I could've done so many things differently to make nursing work better. As they say, "Coulda, woulda, shoulda."

But I didn't, and so between the 40 minute sleepy feedings, the dairy sensitivity, the shooting pains in my breasts from another case of intraductal yeast, the adequate but less impressive weight gain for Mira (and startling weight loss for me), and my overall anxiety and depression shooting through the roof while my energy tanked daily, we decided that it would be better for everyone if we switched her to a bottle. I felt sad but resigned after praying over the matter. I considered pumping my milk, and I even got up the first night to pump. But I knew that just lactating put such a strain on me, and the dietary limitations and the yeast issue would persist, at least for awhile. I felt that it would be best to just let go.

I know gradual weaning is best, and I wish I had chosen that instead. I had three days of terrible engorgement, and on the forth day I woke feeling tender but improved. Then my mourning began.

That was two and a half weeks ago, and now it comes in waves. When I can eat ravioli or peanut butter, sleep through her one night-time waking while David gives her a bottle, go out for more than an hour alone, or confidently snuggle and sooth her fussiness without questioning if she has gotten enough to eat, I rejoice in bottle feeding her. I love to look into her eyes while she feeds. I love that in 20 minutes or less, she's full and we can just enjoy being with her. I like how she has filled out more, and I'm not as stressed when she takes long naps (she is quite the sleeper!). I know that David is happy to bond with and care for more and to give me more relief and freedom.

I just wish I hadn't quit so soon, and there is nothing that I can do about it. When I see other women nursing, I regret knowing that, while it was problematic and challenging, I could still have nursed her. I had a choice, and I chose to quit at 2 1/2 weeks! Two days after we switched her to a bottle, every one of her siblings came down with an awful cold. I came down with the same cold a week and a half later. I could've done more to protect her from illness, and now all I can do is take good care of her and be a hand-washing, distance, and cleanliness Nazi. She just started doing this little cough, and I have no idea if it's the beginning of a cold or just her making new sounds. We'll just have to see.

Relactation is not an option. Even if it were medically possible, such a task would be more strenuous on my family, Mira, and me. I believe our family is complete. There will be no more chances, and another chance would undoubtedly have all of the same challenges arise, I know it. Besides, you don't have babies just for a chance to nurse again.

There is no turning back. I wish I could stop looking back. I know that I need to.

Sometimes we have disappointments, either inflicted upon us or resulting from our own choices, that we cannot undo. How humbling it is that only time and prayer can heal that wounds that result.

This is small, I know it. There are harder trials and bigger mistakes. As I shared before, I forgave myself for the Sophie nursing mistakes with Aidan, because my illusions about nursing were gone forever. I knew that, even when you can make it work, it's not some Utopia of motherhood. It's still work and sacrifice for many/most women.

I believe that Mira will be fine, and I hope we can keep her from getting sick while she's such a vulnerable little newbie. But this experience has taught me that opportunities are to be cherished. I had a limited opportunity, and I gave it up a little sooner than I think I should have. Last night, as I was holding Mira and gazing at her, what small amount of milk I still have let down (not even enough to leak), and I was reminded of what it was like to nurse her. I started crying, and when David asked what was wrong, all I could say was, "I wish I had cherished the experience more."

David patiently responded, "Let's try to cherish this." Sound advice indeed.