If you've given birth, you will know that doing so is one of the most momentous moments of your life. Not only because you bring in one of the biggest blessings you'll ever experience, but also because it is slightly traumatizing and a whirlwind of a moment! 

So it all began at 12:45am, Saturday, December 16, 2017. Stephen and I had just walked back in the door after dropping off a friend at her home after a girls' night at my house. 

Stephen said something funny. I laughed. Yep, I laughed and there she was. 

No. I wish. 

I laughed, and there my water broke. Just a little at first. So little in fact I just thought I'd peed myself--which had not happened up until this point, even being pregnant. Just putting that disclaimer out there. I do not frequently urinate myself. But it was just a little, so I told Stephen with a puzzled look on my face, "I'm not sure what that was. I may have just peed myself. I'm going to go check." I got to the bathroom, and I still wasn't convinced one way or the other. 

So I came back downstairs, and it happened again. Except this time it didn't stop.

I stood in the middle of the den, legs spread, towel underneath me for like 10 minutes waiting for the water to stop flowing. Everytime I moved, more came out. Everytime I stayed still, it would stop. It was awkward. Not gonna lie. Pregnancy and giving birth removes any dignity you might have. Just fyi. 

I eventually grabbed a kitchen chair to sit in, don't want to ruin the upholstered furniture, and waited to see what else might happen. About 20 minutes after my water broke, I had my first contraction. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't terrible. Took a little breath away, but when it was done I am pretty sure I told Stephen, "I think that might have been a contraction." 

Soon after that I figured out it was only the beginning, they would get worse. 

Stephen stayed up with me for a little bit, but apparently I eventually told him he might want to get some shut eye upstairs since it was probably going to be a long night. 

I say apparently because I do not recall telling him this. Pretty sure I wanted him by my side the entire time. Especially once the contractions got worse, I totally get the whole "You did this to me!" cliche labor scene on TV and movies. I was wondering how he was sleeping through my groaning, because it was some pretty loud groaning.

Honestly about 50% of the contractions weren't awful. I could have probably talked through some of them, and while they hurt I could manage. 

The other 50% about broke me. 

It's hard to look back and think that it was as bad as it was, because memories fade quickly. Very quickly. I just know that at times I could feel the contraction coming on, I could tell it was going to be worse, and I would find myself jumping from a sitting position to quickly pacing around the room attempting to "run away" from the pain. No lie. I wanted to hop out of my skin. 

Worse of all, when those particular contractions would start, I would know they would be the rough ones. Not only were they the rough ones, but they would also last the longest. My other contractions would last 1.5-2 minutes, these could last from 3-5 minutes. Yes. Yes. That apparently is a thing, at least for me. 

Also one of the sad moments in this contraction business was realizing that when they say to wait until they are 5-7 minutes apart before going to the hospital, that 5-7 minutes is from start of one contraction to the start of the other. Not from the end of one to the start of the next. Which means that my little "break" in between on some of these would only be 1-3 minutes depending on how long the actual contraction before had lasted. Not cool. 

At about 6 am, Stephen came downstairs to check on me for the second time. I told him they were starting to get a little more regular and the window of time was getting closer for us to go to the hospital. Stephen contacted my mom, and she pretty much told us to get to the hospital. So at about 7 am we left our house, me in pajamas with a towel underneath me (because I was still leaking part of my water). 

We pulled up to the ER, Stephen grabbed me a wheelchair, and rolled me in. One of the volunteers passed me a form to start filling out while Stephen parked the car. Mind you, they want you to fill out a form while you are experiencing contractions. I don't feel that this man completely understood the situation (he's a dude, right?), because he didn't seem to understand why I was pausing while writing at times. But by the time I finished the form, Stephen had made his way back in and they wheeled us very quickly from the waiting room to one of the assessment rooms.

The nurse asked me if I was in labor. I told her I was. Very doubtingly she asked me if my water had broken. I explained that I thought so--I mean I had no idea why it was just trickling out like it was, so maybe it wasn't the real thing? After I changed into different clothing and gave her a pee sample, she checked my cervix.

8 cm dilated. 

"Oh, yeah! You are in labor. Not sure we need to wait for that pee test result." 

Quickly they rolled me down the hall to a labor and delivery room. It was huge. I mean like super huge. Weirdly huge. I think you could possibly have multiple women in there, which would be odd.

Anyways, they began hooking me up to IVs. I told them about the Strep B and that I would need antibiotics for it. They quickly informed me then we better get them in quick because it takes 4 hours to get it all in your system before baby comes--excuse me?! The first shocker was that they thought baby be here in less than 4 hours! Second, I would have come in sooner if I had known that. I knew I need the antibiotic, but no one told me I needed it at least 4 hours beforehand. Lesson learned.

The nursed asked if I wanted an epidural. Up until this point I'd assumed I'd say that with a big fat "YES!", but after hearing I was 8 cm already I felt empowered somehow. Like maybe I want to do this all na-tur-ral. I asked the nurse if I should take it, which she informed me that it takes 30 min to prep me to get it, so might as well start the prep and then I can decide. Sweet 30 more minutes to decide.

But very quickly, maybe 3 or 4 contractions and 20 minutes, the nurse checked me again and I was 10 cm dilated. It was go-time. Doctor had yet to arrive, but the nurse told me to lift my legs, Stephen to hold one while she held the other and to push.

All I could think was "Oh crap. How bad is this going to be?"

But after two pushes, the nurse didn't feel like something was right.

She felt around, asked for an ultrasound, and pretty soon told me baby was breech and we were going to have to do a c-section. Trust me the next few minutes were a pretty big blur. A c-section was not on my radar as a possibility, and especially when I'd asked the doctors multiple times about Camber's positioning, and up until that day they'd all decided she was in the correct position. I was speechless. Shocked. And I quickly began to tear up and cry.

The C-Section

Just as quickly as they had told me I was going to have a c-section, they were wheeling me down the hall.

Funny side note. My parents were on their way to the hospital, but figured it'd still be a while. So they stopped to pick up breakfast for themselves and Stephen. Stephen called to let them know we were pushing, and so they boogied on over. Right as they completed the ultrasound, my dad turned the corner around the curtain and BAM! I was there all open for the world to see. Yep. Just creating memorable times with my dad.

So I said goodbye, that I loved them, and we'd see them with a grandbaby soon as they rolled me down the hall to the OR. They prepped me for surgery, got Stephen clothed in the hallway (I had no idea where he was at this point), and soon I began to feel the spinal tap kick in because my contractions slowly disappeared. Soon Stephen was in the room with me holding my cold shaking hand (yay fluids), and the staff wrapped me in a blanket to stay warm.

As we waited for everything to be ready for surgery, I asked the nurse how they would know if everything was numb enough before they started. He told me, "We pinch you really hard. We'll know then. Plus they've already started." I couldn't see past the curtain, so I looked up at the surgical light they were using, and sure enough I could see a very deep pink reflection of something glaring back at me. So glad it was a blurry image.

The nurse talked me through a lot of what was going on. Why I was cold. What they were doing. How close we were. And at 9:10am, as soon as I heard that little girl's cry, I cried. They pulled the curtain down some, and showed us our beautiful little girl! Man was she pretty. So much hair! I knew that heartburn wasn't in vain! It also felt so surreal.

Our New Life

Unfortunately Camber hadn't expelled enough of the fluids in her lungs, c-section problems, after she was born, so they had to wheel her away as soon as I saw her.

There wasn't that perfect moment I'd hoped for. The one where they lift her from below the curtain draped across my knees, umbilical cord still in tact, and lay her on my chest so I can hold her for the next hour, just the two of us. Instead, I could see her here and there as they tried to get the fluids out of her system at a nearby sink and table.

After about 5 minutes they brought her to me to see her closer. Stephen held her next to my face, as I was still hooked up to multiple things and couldn't hold her. I kissed her sweet face, and they took her away to finish taking care of her. Not the perfect moment, but perfect enough because this was THE moment.

About 30min to an hour later, they had already rolled me into a recovery room, they finally brought her to me for a little bit to let me try and nurse her. We laid her on my bare chest, and eventually we got to try BF out.

That's a weird sensation. Ain't gonna lie, it's taken a while for me to enjoy BF. But with a little coaxing she did nurse some. Again, they came and got her to take to the nursery within about 20 minutes.

Every time she left, Stephen left. He never let her out of his sight. I was flooded with photos later on of Stephen carefully watching her any moment he had. Anytime they moved her in the nursery, he moved windows just to be closer. He was there hands on anytime they let him. That's a good daddy there.

They rolled me to our room that we'd live in for the next couple of days. My mom quickly joined me. The spinal tap was finally wearing off, but as a result of it my face was itching like crazy. They offered me a Benadryl which I took, because it was driving me nuts. Next thing I know I am fighting with all I am to try and stay awake. Normally it does nothing to me, that day it did. I remember trying to talk to Chad and Philip feeling like I could barely formulate words. So drunk happy.

I fought the sleepiness as long as I could, and I think eventually I took a small nap. Next thing I know I'm surrounded by Stephen, and they finally brought me my girl.

The next few days were a beautiful blur. The happiest days of my life for sure. Compares to the same feeling I had during Stephen and mine's honeymoon. Just bliss. Nothing could touch us or our happiness. I remember thinking if I could just stay in that room all my life, I'd have all I need.

The first few days after baby is born is the best whirlwind and being thrown to the wolves you'll ever experience. There is such joy that it lifts and carries you through all the rough patches--at least in my experience. Now coming down off that high is a little rough, but thankfully I think any postpartum depression I had was limited to about 2 days; literally just coming down off that high was a weird sensation to navigate through and enough to make me feel a little down for a few days.

So my first experience breastfeeding was about 30 minutes to an hour after Camber was born. She came out through a c-section, and so some of the fluid in her lungs had not been expelled as would normally be during a vaginal birth. So the hospital staff tended to her a little longer than I expected, not really giving us that immediate moment of skin to skin. But eventually they brought her to me, she was laid on my chest, and slowly we found that little girl was trying to wiggle and move her way to eat. It wasn't super easy to get started, since neither of us knew what we were doing, but alas the nurses assisted and Camber was able to start nursing! It was a seriously odd experience and sensation, something I didn't think I'd really enjoy--and it did take a little while to get there.

The next few days in the hospital she would latch relatively easily, but she never opened her mouth wide enough and we constantly fought the struggle of keeping her awake long enough to eat what she needed. And goodness, who knew babies needed to eat so much so frequently!! Waking at all hours of the night to feed her was ridiculously exhausting, but again we were on the high of having a baby for 2 weeks straight, so you don't feel too bothered by it in the moment. That's why you need that high for sure. Kept us sane and living off little to no sleep.

By the time we got home, I felt like we were getting this thing. She was feeding long enough, as long as we kept pestering her to stay awake, and wasn't having any issues latching. I felt some minor pain, but kept thinking it'd eventually pass as soon as we were able to master her latch.

Problem #1--Refusing to Latch

But then day 4 hit--my milk came in. The first few days postpartum you are giving baby colostrum, and slowly your body will know to produce milk. Milk is much more liquidy and not quite as nutrient rich as your colostrum--so you make a lot more of it, meaning your breasts will get full. Very full. Before I'd knew what happened, my boobs were rock solid hard (which I just figured was normal? I mean I've never had boobs that could produce milk so who knows right?). I tried to get Camber to latch, and she refused. She wouldn't, or couldn't suck any longer. 

At first it didn't seem like a big problem, but when she skipped not just one feeding, not just two feedings, but was going on the third feeding of not eating, I had a melt down. I couldn't feed my baby. I didn't know what I was doing wrong or how to fix it. Stephen had been out of the house for a few hours that day, and came home to a crying baby and a crying wife. Poor guy, but he handled the situation with such grace. He called around to as many places as he could to get hold of someone who could give us some answers.

We were told I needed to pump off some of the pressure. Which after that and a hot shower, I did start feeling better. But still no matter what I seemed to do, Camber was not having it.

Fixing the Latch

The biggest thing people are going to tell you about breastfeeding those first few days, is do not give her a bottle because that will cause nipple confusion. Okay. I can see how this can happen. I can see how babies may tend to favor one over the other, and giving the option too early can possibly mean baby will stop trying to nurse. But when your baby won't eat, you need to do what you need to do to get that baby fed. My fear of nipple confusion could have possibly outweighed what was reasonable and sensible for my baby to be alive and healthy. 

But thank goodness for professionals. My biggest suggestion when you begin to have breastfeeding problem is see a lactation consultant. Seriously. It might be a little scary, but the peace of mind and advice they can give you are priceless. You're tired mamma. You're not 100% in the best frame of mind right now. You're hormonal. Let someone take a little bit of the load and give you a road map to take you towards success. 

In the end, the lactation consultant provided me a plan. That's all. Things I probably could have researched and found on my own, but this person knew our specific problems and gave us steps to get where we wanted to be. 

Amazingly it worked. 

We were told to pump and bottle feed--excuse me what?! What about the nipple confusion?--and try to breastfeed recreationally. #1 That meant she got fed, which is really the biggest concern! #2 That meant breastfeeding was no pressure. She didn't have to feed because she was already full, but it also meant she wasn't upset when trying to breastfeed. Eventually over the next week she began feeding at the breast more and more. So we saw the lactation consultant one more time, and she recommended we go 1/2 and 1/2 and eventually transition to completely breastfeeding as we saw that she was steadily gaining weight.

And by about week 3, I believe we were 100% breastfeeding. 

Early on, before my milk regulated itself, my oversupply was a huge problem. Thankfully before Camber and I figured this breastfeeding thing out, I was pumping a lot. I would get 8 to 10 oz each pumping session, which meant I stashed away a lot of milk for when I returned to work. That was the "thank goodness" part.

Well that sounds all great, so what's the problem?

Problem was, my letdown was super heavy because of this! There were times I'd unlatch my nursing bra, and I would spray milk everywhere. Yeah I didn't believe that was possible, but it is. As Camber would drink, she was struggling to keep up and was practically drowning in my milk. Due to this, she gulped a lot more air than normal and we had a very gassy baby! A miserably gassy baby.

I figured oversupply and gassiness would always be a struggle for us, but...

About 11 weeks after little one was born, I returned to work. At first for just a few half days, to ease back into things (which I have come to realize half days would be the ideal working mommy situation),and then finally back full time. It has been tough being away from Camber--goodness she's too cute, and grows too quick! It has also been tough pumping so much.

Surprise, surprise... not nursing, but pumping instead, results in a lower supply!

Our bodies are just meant to be with that little babe and respond to all the goodness they got. So when they want more, they nurse more, and even if your milk isn't there your body now knows to make more!

At work, you're at the mercy of your schedule and what is reasonable to be away from your desk pumping. I have found I produce much less, or at least little one is less happy with a reasonable amount of milk, when I pump and she is bottle fed. I really do feel like a cow these days, just always pumping.

Fixing My Supply

Oversupply, as I mentioned before, can result in a heavy letdown and a gassy baby. The reason baby is so gassy is because they are taking in a lot of foremilk and air, compared to the hindmilk which is the fatty, rich stuff. Block feeding is a great way to help regulate your milk and try to get more of the hindmilk in their system. Essentially you are trying to empty out one boob before you move on to the next one so you can get past all the foremilk they get in the beginning of a nursing session. So that means that you may for a couple of feedings have her feed on the same breast in a row instead of switching. I found my right boob I'd have to feed at least twice on there before I could switch to the otherside. You know you always have that one boob that produces way more than the other--meet my Mrs. Rightside.

This really did help not only with her gassiness, but my milk began to regulate and even out to just about what Camber needed rather than too much. Which now, is a struggle to say it was a good thing, because I feel like I'm struggling to keep my supply up.

Undersupply is such a struggle because now you're wondering, "Can I keep this up? Am I capable of feeding my baby enough? Will I have to supplement?" When you've worked so hard for something, it is tough to realize that it may not be 100% working, and that you may need to consider another route. Pride kicks in.

Although, there are some things you can try and do to help increase your supply. Some things work great for some people, and don't for others. It is really a trial and error process, so don't get discouraged in the hunt.

I have found the following definitely help with me, but some work better than others so I just keep doing them all. Some days it means I see a huge increase, other days it seems to drop back down. I just keep stashing away and pray that it will continue to work:

1. Increase your water intake--Breastmilk is mainly water, so it is only logical.
2. Pump frequently--The more you remove milk, the more your body will be signaled to produce.
3. Empty your breasts--Don't just pump, but pump until empty and then some! I have pumped past the point of empty multiple times now; not only do I think it helps to signal your body for future production, but it has actually resulted in a second letdown multiple times now.
4. Massage your breasts and reposition your flanges--This will help push/release milk from other areas of your boobs. I always manage to get much more doing this, and I think it also helps with that second letdown.
5. Pump after nursing--I have found that on my work days, I need to pump after she nurses in the morning, right before I leave for work, as well as at night time after she has gone to bed (great time to power pump). I manage to get 2-8 more ounces between those two extra pumps in a given day, and of course removing that milk helps to stimulate production!
6. Supplements--I have found that drinking Mother's Milk Tea multiple times a day, as well as taking Fenugreek help boost my supply just enough to notice it, which totally makes it worth it to me! 
7. Gatorade--Not 100% sure if this one really is working, or again if it's a combination of a lot of things, but apparently blue Gatorade helps with lactation. It may just mean you're taking in more fluids and also adding some electrolytes.