Guest post written by Sierra West:
Dear Family and Friends,
Please read this knowing that I love the love you have for my child. That I understand why you want to keep her overnight, and that my heart swells seeing you with her. Yes, I know she loves your silly faces Mamaw, and I know she giggles when her aunts bounce her. I am aware that you’ve raised children and “they all turned out fine”. Please know that just because I do things differently, doesn’t mean I am in any way judging your parenting or insinuating that you did it wrong. But, there are just so many things I can’t show and tell you and until she has her voice to advocate for her, all she has is me.
I can’t explain to you how, even if she’s smiling, when her eyebrows start to turn red she’s getting upset.
I can’t leave instructions to show the difference in the way she chews her hands when she’s hungry, but sucks on them when she’s self soothing.
There’s no way for me to demonstrate the different ways she moves at night. One indicating she isn’t comfortable, while the other shows she is ready to eat.
I can’t describe to you the feeling of the tiniest little prickles of sweat I feel when I kiss her head that let me know she’s too warm.
I know your home is safe, but I can’t recreate the environment that she’s become accustomed to sleeping in. The dimness of the lights and the specific position she finds on my chest while clutching my shirt when she’s ready to drift into sleep.
Please know that I’m not being selfish, or overbearing, or a helicopter mom. Yes, I do have an older child who enjoys sleepovers, but he can use his words and express to you if he just needs his mommy and is ready to come home. I know in the not so distant future, she will run for you and beg to spend the night. And, I will let her. I understand you’re just trying to help and give me a break. I appreciate that more than you know, and one day I will welcome it when her pigtails are bouncing through your house in excitement of making a tent and eating too much sugar. But, for now, she needs to hear my soft snoring to sleep, just the way she did in the womb. She needs to smell the scent of my skin that she finds so comforting. She needs to hear the familiar sound of my voice when she wakes abruptly. She needs ME. She is my baby, and I am her whole world.
Sierra West lives in Tennessee with her husband and 2 children.
“What started as curiosity of a parenting style I wasn’t familiar with turned into a passion. Breastfeeding, babywearing, and bedsharing took my world by storm and, at times, made me wonder how I survived my first child without the knowledge I have now. I also could’ve saved myself a lot of heartache after my first if I’d just known a wrap can hide even the most unsightly love handles.” 
I crave information, so when my daughter was days old I started trying to connect with people who could share any and all parenting info, and what better place than the Internet, right?
There are moments of the day where I think to myself, “Oh my word, it’s only 11 am, or ahhh, it’s only 2 pm. How in the world am I going to remain sane until you go down for bed!!!! I am a working mom, but I work part time which means there are many days, it’s just me and my babe. All day. I feel very grateful for the time we have together and the opportunity to work part time. To be brutally honest, I would love nothing more than to be a stay at home mom, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s up to me to keep her fed, clean, entertained, and well, let’s be honest, I’m all I’ve got to provide the same things for myself. Most of the time, she is much cleaner and more well fed than I.
She is 18 months old, and VERY strong willed. I fully acknowledge she got that from me, and I am doing my best as her mommy to make that a character asset of hers… With that being said, she tests my patience, A LOT. I am committed to gentle parenting, no raising voices, guidance vs. punishment, and lots of positive reinforcement. This is tricky, even for this gal who was told she would never have her own child. By a miracle of God, my husband and I conceived our beautiful, wonderful, and again, strong willed child.
There are lots and lots of times each day, I have an idea of what I want her to do. There are many times when that is just flat out not going to happen. As her personality develops, she and I can have a battle of wills, that well, I’m not sure what to compare it to, let’s just say it can be intense. I have to realize she is her own person, who is developing wants of her own. There is a middle ground that we find after some struggle each, and every day. It’s not about her getting everything she wants, and it is not about me dragging her along with me, accomplishing all I “think” needs to get done that day. There are days when I cannot wait for her daddy to get home, just to have someone else to play with her, bathe her, feed her. There are days I cannot wait to go to work.
At the end of the day, like today for instance, I was bathing her. We threw all seriousness and all rules out the window. We played, we splashed, we laughed for as long as she wanted. It was amazing. It made all of those moments of struggle throughout the day totally unimportant. I laid her in her princess bed, as she calls it. She cuddled her Dumbo and I nursed her to sleep. So so cute. I can hardly take it when she looks at me and says, “mommy, milk. Princess bed.” It’s too much for my heart to handle. The amount of love I have for that little girl is astounding.. As we lay there, I took it all in, as I try to every night. Her smell, the way she feels breathing in my arms, is incredible. Unlike anything I’ve ever known. Being her mommy is addicting. It’s the most important thing I’ve ever been. My heart is full as I write this tonight. I’m sitting down with my husband for dinner, we will share about our day, we will most likely quote our daughter and laugh and smile about how amazing she is and how blessed we are.
I am different than ever before.
I am messier than ever.
God, I am so tired.
I hardly ever get a real shower.
I am mom.
I’m heavier.
I’m rounder.
I’m saggier.
I have “extra pounds” that I’ve learned to be grateful for.
I am mom.
I’d be lying if I said I never struggle with my body, I have all of my life. More importantly dear, I want to teach you how to love yourself.
I teach you how to love yourself, by loving myself.
That is my responsibility.
I am mom.
My body is incredible.
It feeds you, it grew you.
I am mom.
I am a cook.
I am a teacher.
I am a maid.
I clean constantly, yet rarely?
That makes total sense to me, because
I am mom.
I am your comforter.
I am your protector.
I am mom.
I am warmth.
I am peace.
I am love.
I am mom.
Most importantly my dear, I am your mom.
I will be here anytime you need me, with open arms, because baby, I am your mom.
When you are ill, when you are cold, when you are hungry, when you are scared. I don’t care what time of day or night, I will be here. I am your mom.
I will hug you, kiss you, and love you with everything I am until I am no more, because I am your mom.
I’ve been blessed with the most important job I’ve ever known. I will guard it and I guard you with everything in my heart sweet daughter. I am your mom.
Let’s not forget Daddy. He loves you with everything he has as well babe, but there are moments that he has placed you in my arms and said, ” I love her and I want to soothe her, but she needs you sweet wife, because you are her mom.”
There will come a day when you don’t want me like you do now. I will hold on, through tears, to every sweet snuggle and take comfort in the times you’ve
told me “love you,” because I have to be strong. I am your mom.
I’ll be there, no matter how near or far, when you have babies. I am your mom.
I will love them. I will listen to you and respect the way you love them sweetheart, because you are their mom.
I have an open wound in my heart that can never be healed, because I am mom. There is an indescribable love that I feel, that can never compare to anything, ever, because I am mom.
Thank you for choosing me, honey. I am so blessed and so grateful you’ve given me the opportunity to be the most wonderful thing I’ve ever been.
Your mom.
I don’t know about you, but when I was pregnant and even before, I dreamed a blissful dream of a calm, easy baby, cooing, laying in my arms as I seamlessly nursed her and rocked her to sleep. I lie her down, in her perfect (expensive!) crib, on her back. She may stir a little, but I pat her gently and whisper, “Goodnight sweet baby”, as she drifts peacefully off to sleep. Uh huh… now, on to the reality.
(Side note: I would never intentionally take a picture of my babe crying. My mom and I were trying to take a pic of her “grandma’s sweetheart” onesie and ended up with this gem.)
I’ve had a few conversations with fellow parents recently, that have gone something like this:
I’ve done X, Y, and Z and nothing, I repeat nothing will help my baby sleep. He/She has been up for 15 solid hours with no end in sight. I’m exhausted, my baby is exhausted. Is He/She teething, hungry, belly pain, reflux, fever, etc? The list goes on and on.
I want to get real here. We have this picture of the perfect baby/parent experience for a reason. We feel guilty when our experience doesn’t match this picture. We turn to other parents. Not sure how you feel about them, but most of the time, I feel as if all those books on sleep, feeding, etc. are complete, guilt inducing crap! I hope to God, that if you’re reading this and you can relate, you find or have already found some friends, an online community, or a family member that will tell it to you straight. If this is the only place you hear it, then so be it, purpose served.
My husband and I are accidental attachment or intuitive parents. We had preconceived notions about how we would parent. The way we thought we would parent, and the way we actually parent are ridiculously different. Hilariously different. Example: We were out to eat with my mom at our favorite restaurant. There was a family with a very young baby. The entire family was talking about the baby. The baby this, the baby that. I proceeded to rant. I mean rant about how the couple should have gotten a baby sitter. Don’t they know how unhealthy it is, that all of the focus is on THE BABY?!?! I just knew that their marriage was sure to fail. Ha! Awesome. Just awesome.
I have to tell you that in 14 months, my husband and I have spent one night out. Count it, one. That night, we had our good friends; who mind you have not come over again, to watch Lil, who at the time was 5 months old. She screamed the entire time. We came home early. She’s used to nursing to sleep, co-sleeping, the whole bit. I knew in my heart it wouldn’t go well. It didn’t, and we haven’t attempted it again. We may not, until she’s able to understand what is happening, and why her parents, her comfort in this world, aren’t here when she goes to sleep. We have adapted our idea of a date night, and it works for us. We have day time dates. We make a pillow bed on the floor in the living room and watch movies, we order in, we make time for each other in different ways. Amusing huh? What we thought, and what our experience actually looks like, could not be any different.
Here’s my point. We compare our experience to others. This is the most dangerous thing a parent can do. Here’s why. So many people are not honest about their experience. Sure, some people have super laid back babies that go down, in their crib, on their back, no crying from day one. I will tell you though, I talk to lots of parents daily, I read a bazillion parenting blogs and this is not the norm. The internet is filled with people who don’t understand why their baby is so different, so difficult. Here’s the truth people, your baby is not different, and your baby is not difficult. Your baby is an individual with individual needs from you, their parent. Your experience is more normal than you’ll ever know.
We had not a clue we would be a bed sharing family. Guess what? We’re a bed sharing family.
We had no idea that we would hold our baby, the majority of the time, while she naps.
I’m sure one day we’ll look back on this with so much fondness. She will one day sleep independently, and we will wish that she would lay with us, for even a few moments. One day, she’ll live somewhere other than our home and we’ll miss her. We will be glad that we decided, when she was just months old, to give up the fight. To stop the power struggle between us and her. To stop looking for so many patterns. She has no idea that since the day she was born, we desperately wanted her to fit in to our schedule, into our routine.
Here’s what we’ve accepted, and I’m eternally grateful that we did. She’s a baby, and she is changing and growing constantly. We realized that it would behoove us to do the same. We are her parents and we need to respond to her needs 24/7. Yes, this means parenting all through the night. We will never, ever be ok with the cry it out method. Honestly, yes we’re tired. We’re exhausted, but she’s growing up to be a very well adjusted, very happy toddler that trusts her parents. This is the greatest reward. This is worth all of the time I think, “there are a million things I need to be doing, would you just sleep!” My husband and I help each other get a little time to ourselves. If you don’t have a partner, I urge you to enlist a friend to help you with the dishes, the laundry, whatever it may be. Balance looks much different these days. We’ve had to relearn what time alone means. There are many days I say to my husband, “I need 30 minutes.” I require much less time these days to shower, shave, and do whatever I need to do that fills me up inside, that recharges my battery. I allow my husband the same. It’s imperative.
I have to remember, daily, that my little one needs me. She’s trying to adjust to this big, big world. I’ve been here a while. I can sacrifice a little of my comfort so that I may help guide her. After all, I brought her here. So, I say to you, hang in there. Your experience is normal. It’s yours and your family’s alone. No one can tell you that you’re doing it wrong, as long as you’re doing it with your heart. We’ll be here, the sleepless souls scattered across the world, reading, one blog, one article, one person’s experience at a time.
>
God what I would’ve given to be one of those new moms who could have company over, sitting around chatting, all the while, her newborn discreetly nursing away. That was, and is, still not the case for me. My breastfeeding journey has been much more complex, adventurous, and a whole lot less glamorous than that scene. I’m a fumbler. I fumble to get us situated into the perfect spot. Always have, probably always will.
I knew, the entire time I was pregnant that I would, without fail, BREASTFEED our daughter. I wanted an unmedicated birth in a hospital. However, I kept a very open mind about both of those things, in hopes of not setting myself up for failure in either area. My pregnancy was incredibly eventful, given we had miscarried twice prior to conceiving Lil . I was borderline high risk. I developed Gestational Diabetes. Both of those factors resulted in a TON of fetal monitoring. Not ideal for a momma who in her heart wants an unmedicated birth and wants to initiate breastfeeding immediately after delivery.
I was diagnosed with GD at 26 weeks I believe. That is when the weekly ultrasounds began, to monitor fetal growth. I should’ve started questioning my OB’s plan for delivery at that time, but I, like many women, just blindly trusted my doctor. It wasn’t until about 36 weeks that I began talking to the doctors in the group about my “birth plan.” They were immediately offended by my birth plan, and seemed offended by the idea of anyone having a birth plan. I have to remind myself right now, as I’m recounting my experience, of one of my favorite sayings. “When we know better, we do better.” Unfortunately at that time, I didn’t know better. Logically I didn’t. I did in my mommy gut though, which I hadn’t began to hone or pay attention too. I thought, oh Jamie, you’re overreacting, or, they know what they’re doing.
God, I wish I’d listened to my gut….
At 37 weeks, my practitioner began telling me that our baby was measuring large, and because of the GD and family history I would need to consider a C Section. I was devastated. She left the room to “talk it over” with the doctor who would most likely be delivering me, since she would be on vacation for the 4th of July. I honestly think she was annoyed I hadn’t spontaneously labored already. She came back in the room, and nonchalantly said, “yep, C Section.” She said my body wouldn’t be capable of delivering a baby LillieNan’s size.
Right then and there I gave up. I surrendered my power as a birthing mother. I will never forget that feeling. It hurts in the center of my being to this day. Reluctantly, I scheduled the C Section for July the 2nd at 9 am…. There were many wonderful feelings associated with the birth of our baby. That doesn’t mean my heart won’t forever ache for the birthing experience I desired.
I spent 3 full days in the hospital, recovering from the C Section, which is major abdominal surgery. I wished so badly I was only recovering from delivering my baby vaginally. Instead, I was on heavy heavy pain meds and antibiotics to prevent possible infection. The antibiotics caused serious itching, and for that, the doctors prescribed benedryl and other medications, that I’m sure caused a delay in my milk coming in. Lactation consultants visited my room once daily, which, in my opinion is not frequently enough for a momma who so desperately wants to breastfeed her newborn baby. A momma who hopes to allow her babe to self wean. Lil was born 9.5 lbs and at the time, I knew nothing about newborn weight loss/gain, in relation to initiating Breastfeeding.
By the 2nd day in the hospital she had lost 8% of her body weight. By the 3rd day she had lost 10%, which I now know is pretty normal. Babies begin to gain birth weight back, as their mommas milk changes from colostrum to milk. Their tummies are only about the size of a marble until their second week of life, then in the second week, only the size of a walnut. Our pediatricians office sent a doctor to our room once each day to monitor Lil. Her growth, her skin, her cry, her diapers, etc. None of the doctors who visited mentioned anything about the size of a babies tummy. They only began to scare me about her weight loss. One of the doctors did something I can never forgive, ever. She looked me dead in the eyes and said, “I cannot let her go home until she begins to gain weight. We prefer she gain all of her birth weight back. It’s just formula ya know. Maybe you can’t produce enough milk to feed your baby. You do care about your baby’s well being, don’t you?” I was mortified. I was embarrassed that my body had let us down.
I didn’t concede to formula while we were in the hospital. Despite the doctors and nurses trying to scare us into supplementing, despite the cute little bag full of “goodies” provided by Enfamil on the table in my hospital room.
I was armed with some good information. My mother, who breastfed 3 children, had let me know that when a mom has a C Section surgery, it may take up to 4 days for the colostrum to turn into milk.
The last day in the hospital, my lactation consultant came in to give me “a going home packet” full of info about engorgement, mastitis and so on. All the while, she did nothing for the fact that I was becoming engorged and didn’t know it, nothing for the fact that Lil and I struggled with her weak latch, and the fact that she was what’s called a “sleepy baby.” That meant she didnt nurse strongly and would sleep through feedings. I now know she was a sleepy baby, because of all of the pain meds and epidural. I was not given any information on breast compressions, or any other techniques that would improve her latch, or her interest in nursing. Do you know what I was given by the lactation consultant? Formula. I was given formula to put on my nipple to “entice” her to feed. It makes me sick to think about that now. Because we were dependent on putting some formula on my nipple to get her to latch, formula that was never supposed to come home with us, came home with us. It’s that simple. It’s an incredibly slippery slope that I never saw coming.
We went to our pediatricians office to have Lil’s weight checked when she was 5 or 6 days old. She was gaining, but not well enough by their standards. I know now that the fact that she was gaining, and was having adequate wet and dirty diapers, meant that we should not have had to give her formula at all. It meant my milk was beginning to feed her sufficiently. Our doctor told us we needed to supplement each feeding with an ounce of formula. That it was no big deal, we’d be able to stop once she started gaining more. She said she would be a stronger nurser as she gained weight. This did nothing but confuse me. She didn’t mention at all that I would need to pump to stimulate my milk supply. She said nothing about the fact that my body wouldn’t understand that we were supplementing with formula, and that I would spend the next year battling a low milk supply.
She did mention I should contact a lactation consultant from the hospital for a home visit. I called them and the only answer I got from them was, “you don’t need a home visit yet, it seems to be going well. Your milk just must not fully be in yet.”
Because the formula came home with us, the first night Lil was crying uncontrollably and I was uneducated about feeding through engorgement, we gave her a bottle of formula. Yes, it makes me sick to my stomach knowing what I know now, that I was engorged and I gave my baby a bottle of formula. What I wouldn’t give to go back to the nights that my breasts poured milk onto my feet, as I changed my baby’s diaper. I can’t believe that I believed her doctor, despite all the physical evidence. I believed that I was not capable of feeding my baby.
As Lil guzzled the ounce of formula from the bottle, I cried. I felt so defeated. The doctor who told me that I couldn’t make enough milk for my baby, won. She was in my head. That’s all it took.
One day, when Lil was about three weeks old, I woke and wondered how in the world this had happened. How in the world, I, who wanted so desperately to breastfeed my baby, was giving her an ounce, which had then increased to an ounce and a half of formula from a bottle at each feeding. How a breastfeeding mom, was reduced to going to Target every other day for formula, when all she wanted in the world was to exclusively BREASTFEED her baby. I hoped each time I bought the formula, that it would be the last case of Enfamil Newborn I would ever have to buy. I prayed that our doctor would be right, that she would become a stronger nurser the more weight she gained.
I realized that morning, that my dream of exclusively breastfeeding, was never going to happen, given the path we were on. I had to do something to save our breastfeeding relationship. I wholeheartedly believe that was the day. The day my mommy gut stepped in. I remembered seeing on facebook, an old friend from middle school had become an IBCLC. I mustered up the courage to message her and ask for help. I explained all of it. I explained what I had been told, how much formula we were giving Lil. How much I WASN’T pumping. You see, I have a friend who had a baby 3 months before me who’s pediatrician told her to, “put the pump away.” My god! What is with some pediatricians and their lack of information regarding breastfeeding?!?
My message to my LC friend was frantic. She replied very quickly and told me to call her. She explained that I would need to pump for 10 minutes, each time I gave Lil a bottle of formula, and that we needed to be doing this whole process at a minimum, every 2 hours. I had no idea at the time, that her advice would be the only hope of saving my milk supply. She did this for me for free. She has taken countless phone calls from me for nothing, out of the kindness of her heart. I am, and will always be forever grateful for her.
I had gotten similar advice from an LC that I talked to over the phone, from the hospital earlier that day, but even she said something very alarming. She said, “you’ll need to commit to this for two weeks. If after two weeks, you’re not producing more, or you feel like its taking too much time, ultimately you’ll have to decide how you want to spend your time on maternity leave with your baby. “Translation: if its too hard, it’s ok, just switch to formula so you can spend more time with your baby.”
My LC friend Anna said something to me on the phone the day I frantically messaged her, that no one else up to that point had said. She told me I was doing a great job and that I’m a great mom. She told me that my baby is very lucky to have such a wonderful momma. She gave me a plan to wean my baby off of the formula supplements. She gave me something no one else had. Confidence. She was helping me begin to hone that mommy gut. The thing that allows a mom to believe she’s capable of caring for her baby, and ultimately, successfully breastfeeding her baby.
I was exhilarated when I hung up the phone. I had a plan. I was committed. It’s been 13 months now, and we are still breastfeeding. It is the single most emotional process of my life. I thought marrying my husband was emotional, and it was, but all we had to do that day was show up and say, “I do.” This is not the case with breastfeeding, unbeknownst to me. I thought you and baby, just “showed up.” Baby latched on and away you go. Little did I know…
There have been many days in the past year, where I’ve questioned if I have enough milk to sufficiently feed Lil. Whether I should just give up and feed her formula. I always go back to the fact that she has adequate wet and dirty diapers and she’s growing. Perfectly I might add.
That doctor still shows up in my thoughts now and again. My mommy gut steps in and tells her, I can do this, thanks for your advice, but no thanks. I’ve played over and over again in my mind, what I would say to those doctors and LC’s if I had it to do over again. What matters is that I never gave up.
I was never able to pump enough to feed Lil while I was at work. We had to use some formula. It hurt, but I never gave in to full time formula feeding. The days that I’m home with her, I have just enough milk to feed her “from the tap” and I am grateful for that. I will know the pleasure of allowing her to self wean.
I am a major supporter of breastfeeding, and intuitive parenting as a result of my experience. I educate myself constantly about breastfeeding and gentle parenting. I have become very connected to many groups of people across the country with the same beliefs as mine. I’ve even created a Facebook community dedicated to sharing what I’ve learned. Join me there if you’d like.
http://www.facebook.com/mommygothergrooveback
I put full faith in my mommy gut these days and I have confidence that I have been given exactly what I need to successfully BREASTFEED and love my baby. I am beginning to forgive the medical community for misleading me so severely, and causing me to lose faith in exactly what my body was designed to do. Although, I still have a long way to go.
I’ve learned that our breastfeeding journey is about so much more than the milk. It’s about learning to trust what works for me and my family. It’s about the trust that should’ve been placed in my body to feed my baby, and not in the doctors. It’s about knowing in my heart, that I am a good mom, who every day does what I believe to be the best for my sweet sweet baby.
I’m still not able to seamlessly and effortlessly breastfeed Lil. It’s always been awkward for me. Some days it feels natural, but I have to be honest most days, it doesn’t. Either way, it is so worth every single moment of effort and time I’ve invested. The way my baby looks at me as her little tummy fills with milk, will never compare to any other feeling. The bond is incredible.
I don’t use a cover in public, mostly because I can’t do that many things at once. It’s ok though. I’m proud to nurse in public without a cover, in hopes of normalizing breastfeeding. Im so proud to advocate for those who’ve struggled just like I have. I’m proud to advocate for moms afraid to nurse in public. I’m honestly, just plain proud to advocate for anyone who believes that they are capable, and I’m mostly proud to advocate for those who like me once, believed they were not.
I share my experience in hopes that it may help someone. I will never be able to repay my friend for her support and the confidence she’s instilled in me, but, what I am able to do is pay it forward in a sense. I want you to know, if you’re reading this, and you’re struggling to breastfeed, it gets better. If you’re unable to breastfeed, for whatever reason, I support you. I have some pretty strong opinions about formula companies as a result of my experience, however, science is amazing and thank god some people have access to formula that truly need to use it. There are millions of women across the world, willing to share their milk through organizations such as
You’re a good mom, and your baby is so incredibly blessed to have such a wonderful, caring momma like you.
Mommy Got Her Groove Back 