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Hi! I'm Kim- a wife, momma, daughter, sister, friend. I love UK, going out for a good glass of wine, cooking, spending too much time on pinterest, and making new memories. I love my life and you're welcome to read about it!
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Friday, July 27, 2012

Blessed for nothin...

And really at this point I wouldn't really even say "blessed". I'm talking about my tata's actually. There really is a point to me talking about this here... hold tight and I'll get to it.
Everyone talks about having a birth plan and how mom's get so wrapped up in going exactly by that plan. They don't account for the unknown, the circumstances that they don't think about. Kind of like those books when you were little where you would read to a certain page and then you get to pick the direction (I loved those btw). Depending on which page you pick, the story can end up in a completely different way. My story has kind of ended up in a completely different way, too, and it is definitely not the one I wanted to flip the page to.
All of my life I have had, shall I say, an abnormally large chest for my size. Before being pregnant I was a size 2/4 and I had triple D's. Yeah, you read that right. I don't know how I was so unlucky to be given these, because my mom... not so much. But, whatever. I've kind of gotten used to shirts fitting weird or having back aches.
But, here is where it fits into my pregnancy. I have always wanted to breastfeed. Always. Really? it was never an option for me not to. I never once considered that I couldn't or wouldn't be able to. It wasn't in my plan... my plan for my son to have the best of whatever I had to give him. It turns out, I can't give him that. It is literally breaking my heart.
We got off to a rough start in the hospital. He would literally get hungry and BAM be hysterical about it. So much so, that he wouldn't latch. I tried. We tried. I think every nurse in the whole hospital tried. At one point I had more hands on my boobs then I would like to admit. Everyone putting in their 2 cents and telling me I can't, won't be able to, he will one day, wait until your milk comes in.... Blah blah blah blah blah.
We left the hospital with the instructions to keep trying and to supplement with formula while I am pumping what I can. "It will come," they all said. I counted on it. I shouldn't have.
My glorious triple D's... yeah those? have turned into H's. No that is not a typo. I'm just being honest here. Why in the world, would God give me such well endowed tata's if I can't even use them for what they were intended for? Yes, I'm struggling with the bitterness of it all.
For the past 4 weeks I have struggled with latching, thrush, engorgement, and low milk supply. I pump what would probably be enough milk for a mouse, not my hungry and growing 9 pound, cute as a button baby boy. He is hungry... he wants to eat... and I can't provide that for him.
Honestly, this post isn't supposed to be a pity party. But the truth is, I am grieving this experience that I didn't expect to have. And right now, I am struggling with the decision to just stop trying and feed him exclusively formula. But it's hard. It's hard because if I officially give up then I have to accept that I failed... and I feel like a failure. But on the other hand, I am mentally and physically exhausted. I literally don't know if I have it in me to keep trying. It's been a month. My sweet Sam will be a month old on Sunday. Right now, I feel like I am not enjoying him like I should be. Don't get me wrong, I love him so much I feel like my heart is about to pop out of my chest, but as of now, I am watching the clock like a machine. Every 3 hours, pump. I am chained to my house and I don't like that feeling.
So yeah, everyone is always afraid of the labor process. I was. To me, labor was a piece of cake. It has been everything that has happened afterward that no one really prepares you for.
I am hoping that I will see some change in the next couple of days. Those of you who are the praying kind, please say one for me!