The first weekend home with my newborn did not go as expected. During the final days of pregnancy and my induction at the hospital, I was looking forward to two things: meeting my baby girl and going home with her and my husband. Once home however, I found myself in a cycle of sleep deprivation. Like my dad says, “there’s no tired like newborn tired,” meaning that no one can fully appreciate how tired the parents of a newborn baby are until they have one themselves.
My husband and I were overwhelmed at how quickly two hours went by for our hungry newborn baby girl, especially because I was planning to breastfeed and had the feeling she wasn’t getting much. Apparently many people feel this way, and many people are wrong, but my baby did need some extra help getting her milk. I was using a manual pump because a nurse at the hospital had told me that the type of breast pump I had at home (Momcozy M5) would not help my milk come in well. I misinterpreted this to mean that I had to keep using the hand pump they had given me at the hospital to help “supplement.” But it became apparent that Baby was no longer latching well. Even though I was attempting to latch her, she was only getting what I was pumping out and giving via syringe (we were also recommended not to do bottles until breastfeeding was established). So I would spend ten minutes trying to get Baby to breastfeed, then ten minutes pumping, give whatever came out to Baby, try to set her down so we could shut our eyes, and about thirty minutes later she would be crying again. And what I didn’t know was that if I had just used the automatic pump then it probably would have helped my milk come in more because my baby having an inefficient latch was delaying it. I knew breastfeeding could be complicated, but I never could have anticipated this maddening cycle.
Our time during those first days at home with our newborn didn’t feel peaceful because of this feeding issue. We debated whether we should give formula or keep pushing through. It didn’t help that we went home from the hospital on a Friday and her pediatrician appointment was on a Monday. I just wanted to survive until we made it to that appointment to get her weight checked.
There were special moments with our newborn even while being in survival mode. I remember her falling asleep on my chest on Saturday at home just like she had done on the day of her birth at the hospital and feeling like I had finally done something right for her to be at peace in this way. I remember holding her and reflecting a lot about the experience of giving birth to her. But Saturday night was worse than Friday night as far as feeling like I could not feed her enough. At the hospital they told us that cluster feeding was normal on the second night, which would have been Thursday, so for her to be waking so frequently and crying on Saturday night made me feel exasperated.
My husband’s mom and grandma came to visit on Sunday morning, and I remember feeling simultaneously anxious and relieved when they came to the door. I was anxious because I knew I looked bad and couldn’t get a handle on putting myself together for them to arrive. I felt like I didn’t have one free moment or I was abandoning the baby. When I answered the door, my husband was changing the baby’s diaper, and they asked me if we had all been sleeping. I remember saying, no, nobody’s been sleeping at all. And they looked at me like they were concerned. I started the visit by trying to be modest about pumping, but quickly gave up and realized I needed to talk to them while continuing to pump because the baby was crying. They told me to keep giving whatever came out, and not to be afraid to give formula if I felt like it would help. I felt manic from pumping, feeding, repeating, but I felt reassured by them that this was an issue as old as time itself.
I was supposed to be monitoring my blood pressure, so I went to the bedroom and did so. It was in the severely high range, and I had had mildly high blood pressure that was stable before giving birth and while at the hospital. When I called the doctor, they said it was likely postpartum preeclampsia and that I needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible and bring the baby along so I could keep feeding her. It took everything in me to just keep calm. I hoped that returning to the hospital meant we could have the nurses look at our baby as well.
We grabbed a few quick things in the hopes that we didn’t really need an overnight bag, but we were wrong. I had to stay in the hospital for two more days until my blood pressure came down. I couldn’t believe that the doctor told me to use a breast pump and continue pumping every two hours. And she told me to rest. I didn’t understand how those two instructions were compatible and I was feeling completely overwhelmed and helpless. What was worse, our baby still was crying a lot when we arrived despite constantly trying to feed her as quickly as I could pump. My husband’s mom and grandma brought some formula, and we gave it to her, and it made me feel more calm to know that the baby’s belly seemed more full each feeding.
I felt so frustrated because when I gave birth the nurses had told us many things, but it didn’t help us or prevent anything we experienced that first weekend at home. They said many mothers worry their baby isn’t getting enough, but baby’s stomach is so tiny that they certainly are. They said not having many wet diapers or poop was normal, but didn’t mention that a few days after birth the expectation for this drastically changed. They let us go home even though our baby was jaundiced and lost a good amount of weight because she passed the criteria to go home just barely. They let me go home with my elevated blood pressure because it was stable and they anticipated it would go down when the opposite happened. And then when we returned to that same hospital for my treatment, I was no longer considered a labor and delivery patient so they were unable to provide any care for my newborn because she was not a patient. My husband had to be in the room at all times attending to the baby since I was not considered at capacity to do so while bedridden. My mind was searching for someone to blame, but really I was blaming myself for everything.
This was truly my lowest point postpartum. I felt ignorant and unprepared and ashamed that all of this had happened. After everything, my baby was fine and I was fine. We ended up having my husband and his mom take the baby to the ER because we were worried about jaundice and dehydration. Neither of these ended up being of concern, but I never regretted getting her checked even though it was only about 12 more hours until her appointment in the morning. I just felt like my poor baby was having such a rough introduction to life outside the womb and wanted to hold and feed her, but while I was undergoing my postpartum preeclampsia treatment she would just scream angrily at my breast. We saw lactation consultants every day while I was there, but nothing much changed. It took until she was about three months old to breastfeed fully. We kept up with the formula for a day or so until my milk came more consistently and could keep up with making bottles for her.
During my treatment I was emotional about having to be separated from my baby for the first time only a few days after she was born while she went to the ER and to her first pediatric appointment with her dad and grandma. However I knew that God was in control of it all, and that was the only way I was able to rest. My mom stayed by my side so that I was never in the hospital room alone even when my husband was taking our baby to her appointments.
When we returned home after our second stay at the hospital, I felt more relieved than ever. Even though I still felt fragile, I also felt like we knew more about how to feed our baby adequately since our initial plan had to be adjusted. I felt reassured that our baby was resilient and happy. She got to meet our dogs and get visits from all of her grandparents.
I had learned from our hospital stay that I could use my electric pump to continue helping with milk regulation since my baby was not yet directly latching. I learned how to keep attempting to latch her. My husband and I both learned how to properly store breastmilk and how to keep bottles sterile for the baby. I learned that I needed to ask my family lots of questions. I learned to be thankful that the treatment I underwent worked and that I did not have more serious problems with my or my baby’s health. I could take a breath, embrace the reality that I was the mother to this precious baby girl, and enjoy the journey of getting to know her better.
Our baby girl’s homecoming was just part of the beginning of stepping into motherhood.
Written by Hannah 