Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Hi...I'm Katie, and I'm an...

Well, readers, it turns out those feelings of desperation and hopelessness that I had about Benjamin eating? Didn't really go away, and, in fact, they got worse. So bad, in fact, that on Monday I was crying for about 5 hours straight, while I stood in the middle of the room clenching my fists, and my body, so that I didn't just start screaming at the top of my lungs. Also, turns out, that that's not normal. But I bet you already knew that. :o)

As I sobbed on the phone to my mom (wonderful woman!), she ventured a guess that what I was feeling was more than just simple frustration at having a colicky baby, and she advised me to see a doctor and get a blessing. Not necessarily in that order. So that night we had our home teachers come over and help Jeff give me a blessing. It was so wonderful, and really helped me feel like there was something that I could do about this whole thing. I love our ward, and all the people in it, but Monday night it actually felt like our home teachers were our family. I LOVE the Priesthood!! What an incredible thing, to have that power given to us from the Lord! And that our husbands, fathers, and brothers can use it to bless our lives and lift us up. Man, the Gospel is awesome!!!!!!!!!

On Tuesday I got an appointment with the doctor who delivered Benjamin, Dr. Henderson. He's a great person, someone who really listens, but is also very practical, and he's a member of the Church (an old Bishop, in fact), so I felt sure that he would understand me. Because I could only tell a member of the Church that I knew something was really really wrong with me because I felt the same kind of despair and hopelessness, combined with nauseousness, that I felt when I had committed serious sin, and have them understand that.

It was wonderful to tell a professional that I trusted that I dreaded when Benjamin woke up from a nap, that thoughts of the future filled me with anxiety and fear, that I cried at the drop of a hat, that I was fantasizing about going to live with my sister in Paris (actually, I wanted to be just like my sister, living in Paris, all by myself), and that I had even thought that I wanted to die, because then it would all be so much easier. Not that I wanted to kill myself (it wasn't nearly that bad) but I just wanted to go away, you know? And, intellectually, of course, I knew that those things weren't real, but it felt like it. The worst part was the feeling that I was weak, or that I was doing something wrong, because I wasn't figuring out things, like I had with the other kids.

But Dr. Henderson assured me that I wasn't weak, and I wasn't crazy, but I did have Postpartum Depression. I wasn't surprised at all, because I knew that something more was wrong than could just be fixed with praying a lot. Actually, Dr. Henderson had a really great insight: He said that for us Church members, sometimes the answer to our prayers is go to the doctor. Which was definitely my situation.

So to make a long story short (too late!), he put me on a low dose of anti-depressant, and I am now on serious medication for the first time in my life. Apparently you need to be on the medication for 6 months so you don't have a rebound situation. Jeff tells me to just think of it as a crutch that you use while you need it. I'm just glad that I'm the lowest dose available, so that it won't be so hard when it is time to get off of it. I took the first pill this morning, and so far, nothing much, but that's a good thing. It takes about 2 weeks for the full effect, I guess. Although you're supposed to feel the negative effects right away, which is good, because then you know that you don't want to use that particular medication, or dose, or whatever.

Well, this is a completely new experience for me, and I still have this feeling that I should just be able to be "strong enough" so that I'm not affected. But, really, it's something messed up with my hormones, so it's just something I'm getting taken care of, like a thyroid problem, or something. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

I also feel like I should put in a disclaimer that I don't have PPD just because Benjamin is such a hard baby, because he's actually a complete sweetheart, and has the best smiles, and snuggles, and is just great! He does have colicky times, which makes it harder, but it's not his fault. And I really love my baby.

And thanks for all of the supportive comments and emails that I got about my last message. It really does help. :o) And interestingly enough, I can't breastfeed while I'm on the medication, so I think that it was actually one of the Lord's "tender mercies" that I had gradually already gone to pumping, and that Benjamin was already on bottles, so that it wasn't a huge abrupt transition for the two of us. Apparently, the Lord, with his omnipotent view, knew that I was going to need to move Benjamin to bottles, when I didn't, and He made it so it was easier than it might have been. Wow, I am so humbled for all the blessings I am constantly receiving, even though I have felt so alone and forgotten. But we never are.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I can breathe...I think

Well, faithful readers, I'm sorry that I haven't posted in forever, but I have been getting used to 4 kids. In particular, getting used to having that fourth child be a "colicky" baby. I have heard that term, but I never truly understood what they meant.

For me it was having my sweet, mellow baby, at 3 weeks of age, morph suddenly into this crying machine that I couldn't really soothe or help. I actually brought him to the doctor, just to make sure that he wasn't broken, or something. I was completely mystified about the whole thing, but the doctor just informed me, that, no, there wasn't anything "wrong," he was just colicky, and there wasn't much I could about it. And I could look forward to this for about the next 2-3 months.

Most babies have fussy times but this was fussy to the extreme. He can be smiling at me one minute, and then, the next thing I know, crying inconsolably. For me the worst nightmare of it all was that his colic seemed to be connected to eating. Every time that I would get him to latch on he would nurse for a few minutes and then he would inhale some, pull off, and then get mad. Or he would have a bubble and stiffen out and not want to latch on again. I would spend 1/2 an hour playing "bait and switch" with the pacifier (which he liked) to get him to latch on and eat enough. But the bottom line is that he just didn't like nursing, and it was incredibly difficult for both of us.

I have exclusively breastfed all of my other kids for a year, and none of them would take a bottle, or anything. I've never even bought formula before! (Doctors always want me to give my kids formula instead of milk around 8 months, but as they're holding their Similac clipboards while they write with their Enfamil pens, I just don't trust that they are giving me an unbiased opinion. Call me crazy.) I actually really like breastfeeding--it's easy (once you get past those first couple of weeks when it hurts like you're being tortured), it's free, it's always available at the perfect temperature, and it's better for the baby.

So I was completely bewildered at this child, and beyond upset that I couldn't fulfill that most basic need. I felt (depending on the day) frustrated, depressed, trapped, alone, crazy, desperate, miserable, and a dozen other emotions. I called my mom a bunch of times, and luckily she had wonderful suggestions, but most of all she was able to talk me off the (emotional) ledge. Thank goodness! I also called several sisters in the ward, which was wonderful to be able to do. I'm so glad that we have such an incredible network of women in the Church! Jeff also gave me an incredible blessing that answered so many of my worries, mostly telling me that Heavenly Father was aware of my struggles, and He loved me. It's so great to be reminded of that, even though I do know it. Really.

But it wasn't getting any better. Sometimes he would latch on, and I had figured out how I could help him with my hyperactive letdown (I am a seriously a firehose), but it wasn't really solving the problem, because he didn't want to eat, and we were both so stressed out. I talked to my dad, who is so awesomely practical, and he said, in effect, so you feed him formula, it's not going to kill him, and there's been lots of wonderful kids who've been formula fed. Which was true, but I wasn't ready to cry "uncle" yet.

So, I just kept at it, making the two of us miserable. Finally, yesterday, I called a lactation consultant, desperate for anything that would make it possible to get through the next 2 months (supposedly colic goes away at around 3-4 months). She listened to everything that I had tried, and then said, "I'm sorry, but I don't have any suggestions for you. You've tried everything that I tell people to do. Just keep at it. Good luck!"

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? Nothing!? Sigh. . .

After that, my mom suggested that I don't get so hung up about how much he eats, and just feed him for the 4-5 minutes that he'll stay on, and stop trying to getting him to latch on again, since it makes him so upset. Because maybe he gets full really fast. Except that he drank TWO bottles of breastmilk last night, so he's able to get 8 oz at a time with no problem. He loves bottles and just doesn't like nursing, plain and simple. Also, last night I couldn't get him to even initially latch on to save my life.

After a lot of thought and prayer I realized a few key things:

#1, Even according to a professional, I've tried everything that there is to do. I've done research, and talked to every one I could think of, etc. I have done everything that I could think of.

#2, Although I prefer nursing, formula and bottles are not evil or from the devil. As a matter of fact, talking to a couple women who had to do exclusive formula from the beginning, their babies had less problems eating, and have had no immune problems whatsoever. One gal's kids have never even had an ear infection. And they are perfectly bright and wonderful children.

#3, The bottom line is that I need to do what is the right thing for my child and for me. Nursing was such a source of stress for the two of us, and wasn't meeting his needs. So if formula and bottles are the best way to do that, then they are the best thing for us.

Last night I tried offering myself once, but he didn't want to latch on again, so I just said, ok, and gave him a bottle of breastmilk and formula mixed together. And it was amazing, how much happier he was. Has been this whole day, as a matter of fact. There was no screaming, no struggling, no anything! Except for eating and sleeping. And he only got up once, as opposed to 2 or 3 times, because he was actually full! Jeff got a better night's sleep with no crying next to the bed each time, and I was able to sleep better, and Benjamin was much happier. I feel like singing hallelujah!

Right now I'm pumping each time that I feed him so that I can give him a bottle of milk and formula mixed. I know that pumping is not ideal, but I'm willing to do it for as long as I can. And who knows, in a couple of months he might want to nurse after this whole colic thing is done. But I'm ok if eventually we move to only formula, as long as he's ok. Hopefully I can figure out a good system for the pumping. Right now, I'm just thrilled that he's eating, and he's happy about it. Finally!

So, dear readers, wish me luck, and pray for us both. And hopefully I will continue to have better and better updates for you.