Somewhere between 6 and 7 weeks

I am a little sad. I have finally come to the conclusion that I may have to bite the bullet and let my sweet girl have a pacifier. This was something I never did with Leif, and I had hours of comfort nursing with him every day, something I still miss. So when tiny Maggie came along, I assumed we would also have that. Little did I know nature decided against that altogether, for the time being.

I have overactive letdown. I make lots and lots of milk, in layman's terms. When Maggie goes to nurse, it comes crashing down, flooding out with force. While everyone tells me that its better than the alternative, I can't say I agree. I have to feed my baby in spurts. I can't relax. I have to watch her struggle to gulp down the milk, a panicked look on her face. I have to pull her off and let her catch her breath. I have to pinch off the flow, try nursing lying down, hold her upright so the milk goes down better. And no matter what I do, its always just too much. I have taken to block nursing, only using the left side during the day, and the right at night. It seems to be helpful, but it still doesn't make it comfortable for either of us. She gets hungry, and we buckle down for the flood.

To be fair, its not always terrible. If I get in a good reclining position, and its late in the afternoon, meaning the milk production is slower, then sometimes she will get comfortable and actually fall asleep a little. But usually she pops off wailing or gasping, and we snuggle while I work the air bubbles out of her tummy, and she sucks away at her favorite pacifier. It's the same one we got at the hospital, the green one they give all the babies. I got it when she went for her hearing test, and she was sobbing. It killed me to have to watch her like that, so I asked for one, and she latched right on.

I am sad because I miss the cuddle nursing I had with my son. I miss the time we had together where I was all he needed. It makes me feel lost to not be all she needs. She needs that pacifier. She needs to comfort suck, and I am unable to give the comfort. So I hold her and smell her sweet hair, and she soothes herself with her pacifier. I help her get through the overwhelming feeding sessions, and help her calm back down. She sleeps amazingly well, and she is a good baby. I adore every moment of her.

And I will learn to accept what I cannot change. My body wants to make lots of milk all at once. Great for dairy cows, not so great for me! So I'll hope for it to slow down soon. Maybe the block feeding will help. Maybe my body will get a clue that we only have one baby, not three, and it will slow production. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe I'll learn to love the pacifier. We'll see. For now, I am in love with my baby. She is so beautiful.

One Month, and 5 weeks, wrapped up together.

I have a daughter. GOD, she is cute. She smiles at me, and my mind freezes in pure bliss. I adore her. I have a slew of ridiculous nicknames for her. Today, its Fuzzy Pickle. She threw up last night, and aspirated a bit of milk, and I swear, my heart stopped for a while. I didn't breathe, I just did every single thing my brain knew how to do, and then I just stopped thinking. I stopped time. I just held her. Time goes no where when I feel her hurting. Time tortures me and saves me, all at the same time. I am able to watch every tear slide down her cheeks, see every dark hair on her soft head. I am able to count the thumps on her back and feel her cough to get the milk out of her lungs. Nothing moves. Listen for rattling in her lungs. Clear her airways. Roll her on her side and pat her back, using an upward motion. Get her skin to skin to help calm her. Keep wiping away the milk she coughs up. Keep her elevated. 

I get her to cough out the milk, and I hold her. I tuck her in next to me, and I lie awake, staring at her sweet face for hours, listening to her breathe. I don't move, I don't blink. I just watch and protect. My body goes cold and stiff on the outside, but I push all of my warmth to her side. We sleep, my arms circled around her tiny body. She calms, she finds rest. We dream together.

We wake this morning and stare at each other in the early morning light. Her eyes find mine, and we are quiet. I never want to leave these moments.

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Week 5 is here and gone, in a flash. I'm not sure what to do with myself, because time is getting speedier, and I feel like I am never on top of my list of things to do. Maggie is....herself. She has been sleeping amazingly well. Some nights I wake her up to eat, instead of her waking me up. She doesn't cry at night at all. She gets a little moody at night before bed, but we have found with a little baby massage and some TLC, she will go to sleep for us. She sleeps snuggled right between us on the bed, so we pass her back and forth on the nights when she struggles a little. We have found that broccoli doesn't work for her. Gas bubbles make her angry. Otherwise, she is one happy little girl.

I would write about Thanksgiving, but that would take forever. Highlights are: we butchered a duck, goose and a turkey. Adam killed the turkey, and then promptly stabbed himself in the finger. Ouch. We had 20+ people at our dinner, the food was amazing, the party was great, and nobody had any issues. So yeah! Woohoo! We are thankful.

Anyways, I have to run, my list spilleth over.