Postpartum anxiety

It was my second day back at work, virtually, and I set up a couple of catch ups with some colleagues that I am friendly with. One of them has shared that one of my other colleague friends was out on leave… Indefinitely. This colleague had given birth in June last year, and I had spoken with her quite a bit when she came back to work. She had been doing really well then and had a very easy breast-feeding journey… Which she acknowledged she was so lucky to have. She had been in the process of weaning off of nursing and pumping, and it appears that the hormonal changes of weaning really affected her negatively. She had gone through some emotional downward spirals and needed to take time off from work. My colleague told me that it was doubtful that she was going to return. I was completely shocked.

She had had a really smooth pregnancy, a precipitous labor, meaning that end to end, her labor was less than seven hours, and her breast-feeding journey was immediately successful. So this news of her experiencing postpartum anxiety was completely unexpected. I felt really terrible when I heard this and immediately reached out to her to see how she was doing. 

Unfortunately, I know based on what I have read that postpartum depression and anxiety are not just confined to the first few months after birth. Postpartum depression can actually affect mothers nine months, 12 months, even 18 months later due to hormonal changes, not to mention shifts in lifestyle, meaning a return to work, bringing a child to daycare, a mother’s changing body and weight, etc. It’s hard to know when and how it could potentially affect you. So far, my postpartum journey has been relatively smooth, and the only real negatives, other than the rocky breast-feeding journey (that I didn’t realize was rocky until I found out my baby wasn’t gaining weight…) and my slightly unhealthy obsession with pumping and increasing my milk supply, was the effect on my elbows and wrists, as well as my new mommy thumb condition. I have been decreasing the motions that cause the pain as much as possible as well as doing exercises to help relieve the pain. I definitely don’t feel as terrible as I did in February. And although I am back to work, as my work friend’s situation has shown me, my postpartum journey is still not over. Hopefully, things will continue looking up for me.

To hold our little ones a little tighter

This morning, I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and came across a post in the one IVF support groups that I stayed in. The person posting said that she had gone through a couple of egg retrievals and just one embryo transfer. That embryo transfer resulted in her getting pregnant and giving birth at 38 weeks. But… the baby was stillborn. There was no explanation for it. She had a smooth and straightforward pregnancy. There were zero signs of any dangers. Even during labor, everything looked normal, or so they said. She said that she was currently in therapy to process all of this, but she wanted to start thinking about next steps after her body healed.

She was debating whether she should move forward with the second frozen embryo or do another retrieval to bank more eggs. My heart ached when I read this post. It almost felt like she was someone I knew personally when I read this story. I felt so horrible and couldn’t stop thinking about it all day. Just the mere thought of having to go through multiple IVF cycles and then being nearly at the finish line… with no baby to bring home just hurt so much. I kept on looking at my own baby. And all day today, I cuddled a little bit more with her, I kissed her a little more, and I held her a little bit tighter. I tell her every single day before bed how grateful I am to have her. She is my most incredible gift in life. There is not a moment when I don’t remember this. I always remember these sad stories and think…. That easily could have been me. But it wasn’t. I was blessed with a successful IVF experience and a healthy baby girl. Not everyone is so lucky and fortunate.

Each year in this country, about 24,000 babies are stillborn. This number has been consistent every year for over 20 years now, yet little additional research and study is being done to solve for this. Yet somehow, SIDS deaths get far more research money and attention even though the number of deaths resulting from SIDS is about 2,000 per year — that’s one TWELFTH of the babies affected by still birth. I don’t understand why not more is being done to prevent stillbirths. I just can’t even begin to fathom the pain of that loss… of taking an empty car seat home from the hospital.

Eyes that still bulge when they see the boobies

Many weeks ago, I stopped nursing the baby before her bottle. Chris suggested it since it would make the feedings more efficient. And while it made me sad to stop, I knew that it was for the best. It would make the day smoother. She would get her main food faster. And I would nurse her only when she got fussy perhaps due to pre-teething or when she needed a little extra after a bottle feed. I was still technically breast-feeding her because I was still pumping as much milk as I could, but I just wasn’t having as much direct breast to mouth contact anymore. The main time that I would nurse her would be before bedtime for the night after her last feed, when she needed an “aperitif” as Chris calls it. I would put her on my boob until she was satisfied, whether that was from the extra milk or just being soothed from being on the breast. I look forward to this time every night when it’s just the two of us in the bedroom together, and she is on my boob and I am caressing her hair and her face and relishing these quiet moments of just the two of us together in the darkness and peace. 

Although I will always be sad that I was never able to successfully nurse her exclusively, it will always make me smile when I think about how much she loves my boobs. In the morning when I get up and say good morning to her while she is in the bassinet for her morning nap after her first feed, I usually have the straps on my nursing top undone, so my breasts are exposed to get ready for my first morning pump. And it is the cutest and most hilarious thing when I poke my head into her bassinet to say good morning, and she immediately makes eye contact with me and smiles. And predictably, her eyes move down from my face directly to my breasts, and it’s like her eyes almost bulge out with excitement. Her mouth opens wide and she is just nearly jumping out of her skin. She starts kicking her legs and flailing her arms as though she is trying to say, get me on those boobies right now! She just loves the boobs. If she had it her way, she would be on my boob all day and all night. And this thought always makes me smile and feel happy. My baby loves me. My baby needs me. And even if she isn’t able to get her nourishment directly from my breast, she still loves spending time on my breast. She loves being with me. She is soothed from being on my boobs. And at this point in time, I have made peace with it. I am still her mother. I am still able to soothe and take care of her. I am still able to provide her food from my breasts, pumped into a bottle. And these are all amazing things. These are all things that I am constantly grateful for.

Maternity leave is nearing its end

I can’t believe that I’m already in my 19th week of maternity leave. That means that I’m almost 19 weeks postpartum, which also means my baby is almost 19 weeks old. Time has gone by so quickly that I almost want to just freeze time so that I can really enjoy all these little moments with my baby close to me. I was packing up some of her newborn and 0-3 month old clothing and getting a little emotional about it. It reminded me of the conversation I had recently with my friend, who told me she was really sad to organize and bag up all of her 18-month old daughters’ clothes to hand down to me.

“This is the first and only girl I’ll have,” she said. She’s scheduling an embryo transfer for boy embryos moving forward so that they can have one girl and one boy. “It just made me so sad to think she’s my one and only girl.” She said her husband didn’t get why she was being so emotional about it.

I get it, though. Even though my baby was slow to gain weight in the beginning, once we got her on track, she’s been growing very nicely and along the curve. She’s getting longer and longer every day; in the next month or so, we’ll likely need to transition her out of her bassinet into her crib. Every time she squawks or shrieks or lets out what sounds like a little laugh, I just want to bottle it all up so that I can hear it over and over and remember these moments. Even when I was sleep deprived, even when I wanted to throw my breast pump out the window and give up on pumping, even when she’s had her fussy moments with her spitting up and pre-teething pain, I always remembered in the back of my head just how lucky I was to even be dealing with her fussiness; I have a baby who needs me. She’s healthy and growing. She’s my baby. It makes me sad to think that she could be my first and only child, that this could be my one and only time ever experiencing raising a newborn, doing tummy time with a baby, breastfeeding a baby. It all seems to be coming and going too quickly. Even in the frustrating moments noted previously or when having the inevitable argument with Chris about something baby related, I’ve still felt so thankful to have her. I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life than having her as my baby, than being able to call myself a mother. It’s not like anything I’ve done is unique or novel given that obviously, women have been giving birth since the beginning of time, but I really do mean it: I have never felt so amazed at what my body has been capable of doing, in growing this tiny human, and giving me the greatest gift of my life.

Pushing milk out of your breasts

Since dropping pumps, not only have my pump sessions become longer to fully empty, but I have also had to do more breast compressions. I particularly have to do more of these in my first morning pump when my boobs are super full of milk, lumpy , and they are nearly rock hard. I was also told by my Cleo lactation consultant that I needed to spend a little bit more time massaging my breasts first thing every morning before pumping to loosen any potential clogs that could be there. This would also make it easier for the milk to come out.  While I was fine doing the extra breast massaging, doing more breast compressions at this point is really, really exhausting. I have given myself numb fingers as well as mommy thumb and wrist pain from all of the breast compressions that I have done during pumping. My mommy thumb condition does not really seem to be getting better. Some days, it is more tolerable than others, but the pain still persists depending on the type of movement my thumb does. Even the term mommy thumb is a misnomer because the pain is not actually in my thumb. The pain results from movement of my thumb, but the pain is actually in my wrist because of the tendons that are connected to my thumb. See? That’s another interesting thing that you learn as a pumping Mama: you learn more about how everything in your body is connected.

So every morning, on top of my extra breast massaging, I have to spend more time pushing down on my boobs to get the milk out. I am literally pushing milk out of my breasts every morning to get the milk out not just for my baby to eat, but also so that I do not get clogged. And so as I do this every morning, I think to myself, Do cows get milk clogs? They don’t have hands. So how would they get their milk clogs out?? What other animals in the animal kingdom get clogged milk ducts…? 

When Beddy Bear burns your boobs

When you are pumping milk, a number of best practices should be followed in order to maximize the milk that you produce for each pump session. Some of these include applying heat to and massaging your breasts before pumping, breast compressions while pumping, and making sure to moisturize your nipples with something that is baby safe like shea butter to prevent cracking or drying out. I usually do all of these things, but I especially applied heat a lot during the first several months of pumping, particularly because it was just very cold since we were in the dead of winter. I used different types of heating pads that needed to be boiled and rehydrated over the stove, and while I used them pretty religiously for the first three months, I got tired of how much preparation went into rehydrating them every single day, multiple times per day, particularly since at that point, I was pumping seven times per day. I ended up reserving the heat pads mostly for my last evening pump as well as my middle of the night pumps. That reduced the amount of heat pad preparation that I had to do. In the beginning, Chris would always boil all of the heat pads for me, but as time went on, I ended up doing it myself and got annoyed at the tedious process. But then, I remembered while rummaging through one of our closets that we had Beddy Bear. 

Beddy Bear is a teddy bear that has raw rice stuffed into his belly. You warm him up in the microwave for about 2 1/2 minutes, and then he basically is a heat pad for you, without any need to rehydrate over boiling water on the stove. This certainly beats waiting for water to boil in a large pot and then allowing the heat pads to rehydrate for about 20 minutes every single time I use them. Because he was so low maintenance, I started just using him to heat up my boobs for certain pump sessions. And he was working quite well. Well, that is… until he actually burned me. A couple days ago, I heated him up for my last evening pump session, and when I put him on my breast, I must have been very sleepy because a few seconds later, I felt a strong burning sensation on the top of boob. I immediately removed him and touched my breast. Crap, I thought. I think I might have overheated him. Or did I? He must have gotten too hot, and I probably should have waited for him to cool a bit before I put him on my breasts. 

The next morning after my shower, I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed that the bruises that are on the top of my breast from breast compressions had gotten even more conspicuous and darker. I looked closely at my breasts in the mirror: ahhhh, I thought. These new bruises are burn marks from Beddy Bear! I can’t believe my teddy bear burned me! And this is all just for breast milk for my baby… 

I thought this before, and I still believe this now: breast-feeding is truly a mother’s gift to her child. It is completely selfless and done 100% out of pure love and the desire to give our babies the most we possibly and physically are able to give. Being a pumping mama is hard ass work, but I have not regretted a second of it. I love watching my baby thrive and grow while primarily having my breast milk as her main form of food. I will always be a little bit sad that nursing did not work out for us, but I am grateful for my milk production, even when it was not that great in the beginning, and even now, when it is still shy of 100% meeting my baby’s needs. I am grateful that I have this opportunity and privilege to feed my baby with food from my own body.

Taking forever to empty my breasts

Ever since I started dropping pump sessions, I have been taking forever to empty. I used to pump for about 30 minutes each session, and now, I am noticing that I have to pump until at least 40 to 45 minutes in order to get the same output that I got previously with just 30 minutes. This is really really frustrating. Sometimes, I end up staying connected to my breast pump for an entire hour. This is supposed to be fairly common unfortunately: I’d read about this happening for a lot of women in my Facebook pumping mamas group, plus my Cleo lactation consultant says this is normal, as well. This is not necessarily the end of the world, as because my pump is battery operated, I do not need to be stuck to a wall. I can actually move about the apartment, and most of the time while I am pumping, I am playing with my baby on the floor. But it is definitely not convenient to have bottles stuck and connected to my nipples. I cannot do exactly everything that I could be doing without the pump connected  because of this. On top of that, my total time connected to a pump is actually longer now than it was when I was doing seven pumps per day. This was not how I was envisioning pumping at five times per day, which is what I am currently at. Plus, in just a couple of short weeks, I am going back to work. Granted, I am lucky in that I am not going back into an office, and that instead, I am going to be working from home at my desk in the second bedroom, so I can still pump while I am at home without being forced to go into a tiny, windowless and soulless pumping room for moms. However, I do not necessarily want to be pumping milk during all of my meetings. I am planning to block out my calendar twice during the workday to pump milk, and so during that time, I will not be doing any video meetings or external meetings. But I was originally envisioning that my pumping breaks would only be 30 minutes. It’s not a big deal for me to be connected to a pump while I am outside of work hours, but this can get really annoying once I am actually doing work meetings again. And I already do all of the things that have been recommended to me to empty faster: I do breast compressions. I apply heat. I massage my breasts before I pump. I have played around with the settings to see what else can empty me faster, but I was already doing that, anyway.

This is annoying, but this still beats pumping seven times per day, every three hours during the day and every four hours at night. I have to wash my pump parts two times less than I did previously. My output per pump is a lot higher now, which makes pumping feel a lot more gratifying now. I am going to get through this.

When six pumps a day becomes five

Today is my fourth day doing five pumps a day, and I really wasn’t expecting to be reducing it down to five pumps a day this soon. My original goal was to get down to five pumps a day before I went back to work, with my sixth pump dropped from the middle of the night, ultimately allowing me to sleep at least 6 to 7 hours straight at night. I know there would have been no way for me to survive working full-time while also caring for my baby without a full night’s sleep, and so this was what I decided to do for myself.  Given that my supply actually went up when I went down to six pumps per day from seven, I decided to start weaning myself sooner rather than later off of my sixth pump. And after about a week and a half, I cut that sixth pump out. I was scared initially, particularly about getting yet another milk clog, but I made sure to take extra sunflower lecithin pills as well as massage my breasts thoroughly as soon as I woke up, as per the recommendation from my Cleo lactation consultant. And so far, so good. My supply has remained a similar, and if anything, it has actually increased slightly.

I feel really good at five pumps per day now. I hope to be doing this now until at least 7 to 8 months postpartum. My original goal was six months, but given how balanced I feel right now and how less overwhelmed I feel with pumping at five pumps per day, I think I can keep this up for longer. I hope I can be giving my baby breastmilk until she is one year old. I am anticipating my supply dropping once my period comes back as it does with most breastfeeding moms, but that’s okay. I have made peace with all of that.

I actually felt a little bit sad as I dropped my sixth pump, as strange as that sounds. You would think that given I had such a love-hate relationship with pumping that I would be really excited every single time I dropped another pump. But instead, it actually made me feel a little bit empty and emotional. Because as I continue to drop pumps, I will get closer and closer to the stage when my baby no longer needs breastmilk and will be eating solids 100 percent. And what this actually means is that she will be less reliant on me. There is an inner joy and comfort that I feel knowing that my body is producing food for my baby to eat. I am providing her with essential nutrients and more. And to know that eventually, this journey will come to an end makes me a little bit sad; her reliance on my body for food will eventually come to an end. One day, she is not going to need me to comfort her by having her suckle on my boob. One day, she is not going to need me to carry her around anymore. One day, she is not really going to want to bury her face in my chest or be soothed simply from the sound of my voice speaking or singing. All of these moments are going to come to an end at some point. It’s a little sad to think about it that way. All of these little moments that I love and cherish are eventually going to end.

Every day, as she gets older, she will be a little bit less reliant on me. Now, she has very good neck strength and needs just a little bit of neck support. Next, she will no longer need us to carry her around because she will be able to walk. Then, she will be able to talk. And eventually, she will be going around the city on her own and doing her own thing. She will gradually become more and more independent and less dependent on us as her parents. And this is all a journey. This is all part of raising a child and giving life. There is a time for everything, and each of those times eventually ends. I just want to sit in each of these moments a little bit longer and cherish it because it really does all go way too fast. I still can’t even believe this is her sixteenth week of life. It all just passes us by too quickly.

One year anniversary of the embryo transfer

Today marks one year since I had my frozen embryo transfer. That tiny little embryo, that little bundle of cells that were expanding, ended up being a little baby that I gave birth to in December and now call my sweet baby Kaia. I got the photo memory on my phone this morning, and I smiled to myself while looking at it at the gym. I had a lot of hope and a lot of fear that morning when I went into the clinic for my transfer. During the transfer, per my request, they played Lady Gaga songs to inspire me. And when I went home that night, Chris and my friend who was staying with us at the time tried to send good vibes and declared me “pupo”: pregnant until proven otherwise. And so for the next week and a half, I was just that: I was Pupo. And about a week in, I started feeling a strange warmth almost like a light fire creeping up on my hips. And that was when I suspected that the embryo transfer was successful, that I was actually pregnant. And nine days after the transfer happened, I went into the clinic for my very first beta , and at just before noon that day, the nurse called with the good news that I was four weeks pregnant. I was so happy and so shocked that I immediately got choked up and started crying. It felt like an eternity – trying to get pregnant, constantly failing, going to the clinic constantly for endless appointments and endless blood tests and endless uterine scans … And finally this one bit of good news was more than I could handle.

The photo of me that came up on my phone was of me on the evening after the embryo transfer. I have a photo that the clinic gave me of my embryo and expanding as you can clearly see in the picture. I have it placed right at my belly and I’m smiling in the photo. When I took that photo, I wasn’t sure what would come next. I wasn’t sure if I would continue to get good news in the upcoming appointments. Every time I went to the bathroom, I was terrified that I was going to see blood , which would indicate that I’d had a miscarriage. It took me a really long time to not get nervous going to the bathroom. But eventually, my nerves were calmed, and I started getting more comfortable with being pregnant. It’s amazing to think how quickly time flies because those scary and uncertain times feel like they were just yesterday.

 And now today, I am still on maternity leave caring for my sweet baby. Every day, I look at her constantly obviously, and I never forget how much uncertainty and fear I had during this journey in conceiving and giving birth to her. I never for a second forget how scary that process was, and I never take for granted what I have; I know I am extremely lucky. There are endless women out there who are trying to get pregnant and not able to, and they would love to have just one chance to conceive successfully.  I feel for them every day. I know their pain intimately. So even when my baby is screaming and crying because of her pre-teething pain, even when it has made me sad that she has not been successful at eating directly from my boob, even when she blows out yet another diaper and I have to pre-soak more of her onesies, even when I get pissed at my pumping schedule, and even when Chris and I are disagreeing and arguing about something baby related, I remember that what I have today is truly a blessing, a gift for which I will forever be grateful. My baby is truly the center of my world, and there is nothing else that I am more grateful for in this life than her. Sometimes I look at her, and I think, fuck everything else. She is literally everything to me and nothing else matters. My sweet little Kaia jam.

Postpartum itchy scalp

Women go through a lot of crap in their lives, particularly if they have to go through pregnancy and childbirth. While most people are aware of the pains and annoyances of pregnancy, not many people, other than those who have actually experienced it themselves, are aware of all the postpartum side effects that women face. Of course, while most logical and reasonably aware people would know that childbirth would require your uterus and vagina to heal, it is less well known that postpartum hormones can really go haywire after the birth of a child. Some of the potential things that can happen can include but are not limited to:  hot flashes, cold night sweats, mood swings, acne, hair loss, and a massively itchy scalp. Oh, that massively itchy scalp is actually affecting me literally as I write this.

A bunch of my friends and colleagues warned me about postpartum hair loss. This tends to be most common about 3 to 4 months after giving birth when most of the pregnancy hormones have left your body, and your body is starting to regulate once again into a non-pregnant body. If that happens, your hair can suddenly start falling out in huge clumps. While I have not yet experienced any hair loss that is notable, fingers crossed, I have repeatedly experience a scalp that is so itchy that all I want to do is scratch it until I bleed. And the most annoying part is that whenever it gets super itchy, it’s when I am supposed to be resting. 

When I actually have a quiet moment and can lie down and not use my arms or hands at all, that is when I itch the most. And it drives me absolutely nuts because all I want to do is rest. I don’t have that much time to rest during the day or night. And so it’s like my body is trying to mess with me and tell me that I’m not allowed to rest, and and instead, it is going to drive me crazy by making my scalp itch. That is just not fun at all for me. I wash my hair about 2 to 3 times a week, and if the itchiness continues, I may actually have to increase the number of times I wash it, which I absolutely hate because I hate washing my hair. It is one of the self grooming things that I abhor. It is annoying to wash my hair particularly because ever since I started dying it, I get massive knots trying to get my fingers through my hair while I am washing. And the knots are super frustrating. That’s why during the very few times during the year when I actually get my hair done, I am so happy to have someone else wash my hair for me.

Oh, postpartum life.