The breast milk fridge

This post is a little late. In the sense that it has been over 6 weeks since I stood in front of that refrigerator in the hospital, in the middle of the night, putting my measly little 25mL of milk in for storage. All around "Mrs. Baleisis - 26/11/2009 1am" were bottles of 100, 150 and even 200mL. Mrs. Smith, Frau So-and-So and Senora Gonzales were all putting dairy cows to shame and I had just been told, after yet another consult, that "maybe breastfeeding just wasn't for me." I was heartbroken, especially since I'd started doing "you owe me one" math with the universe. We'd gone through 3 years of infertility, the end of my pregnancy was rough, I'd wound up with a C-section after trying so hard for a natural birth. And then A went right to breastfeeding like a champ when they brought her to me for the first time, 15 minutes after the surgery was over.

But 4 hours later, in my room in the hospital, feeding was excruciating. What had happened? Had the first time been ok because of the anesthetic? Why did it feel like shooting nerve pain when she fed? I had to grit my teeth just to bear it, and it hurt the whole way through. The lactaction consultants put me on pumping for a few days, and the nurses put A on formula for part of her food, 2 days after birth. And now, I wasn't producing much milk anymore.

And I stood there, crying in front of a fridge full of bottles that weren't mine.

I finally cried in front of the night nurse, too, telling her how I felt about that fridge and she told me something that is still a lesson I'm learning, apparently. Those bottles were from women who had too much milk and were in a lot of pain...all the time. Not just during feedings. They had to pump to relieve pressure and stave off infection. Pretty much turned around how I felt about the fridge.

It was a reminder of how often I forget that other people's experiences contain joy and suffering in equal proportions to mine. I assume that everyone else is living the perfect life I can't seem to manage somehow.

(...wow...this program has been interrupted by a loud baby pooping sound...we'll be right back after a short break so stay tuned....)

I managed to forget this lesson a week ago when I went out to the English speaking pregnant/new moms group in town. I was there without A because she seems to have her worst meltdowns after trips out of the house where we can't soothe her. So if she has to stay screaming in her stroller for 10 or 15 min while we're out, we're going to have hours of screaming later that evening. And there were the moms of the quiet babies. Thinking back now, that is who was there because the other moms with not-so-quiet new bundles of joy were probably all at home bouncing, shushing, swaddling and trying to feed them. Selection effect. But at the time, there were all the stories of sleeping through the night, calm, passive 3 and 5 month olds just looking around the coffee shop, of babies who were easy to fly with, etc. Fly with!? This kid can't even be in a stroller for a 1 hour trip to our village without having problems. Not likely anytime soon.

And I came home with that "breast milk fridge" feeling. I'm sorry, my baby has been really rough, and I just need to hear some horror stories from other people to know that I didn't manage to somehow produce a damaged child by some payback from natural selection. "You really weren't supposed to have a kid, and I kept trying to stop you, so now here you go."

But in response to a note on facebook I got a rash of emails from friends and acquaintances from all the corners of my past and future, with stories of troubles like ours and A's. And sometimes they included stories of more crying, or vomitting which A doesn't do, or other difficulties.

So I'm back there now. I get it again. Everyone has some wins and some losses. And just like no one should think that I'm more lucky because I'm down to my pre-pregnancy weight (you try keeping on pounds when you've eliminated all dairy, gluten and soy from your diet), my baby doesn't spit up (but she makes horrible pain faces and gassy pushing sounds for an hour at a time), and she loves her changing table (at least there is ONE place she is calm for a bit), I don't get to assume those other moms have it better. They just have it different. And if I don't click with them on a personal level, I don't need to go to the meetup. I can see people one on one with whom I can trade stories.

Anyway, who says people learn the first time they see or hear something?