It was the breast of times, it was the worst of times...

DISCLAIMER: THIS POST TALKS ABOUT BREASTS, PARTICULARLY MY BREASTS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PROCEED TO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

So breast feeding sucks (no pun intended, how ever weak it is). I was not prepared for the suckyness of it. It seems my little boy is completely repulsed by my boobs and their contents and my boobs are equally repulsed by him. This might be a letter my boobs would write to the baby if they could write, and think:

Dear Baby,

You obviously have no idea what you are doing. We thought you were pre-programmed to do this, but apparently that is a huge fat lie. You are making our existence miserable. We am cracked, sore, bleeding and fully underutilized. Therefore, We are revoking your privileges. You are now banished to the bottle and the world of ear infections, colds and less effective immune systems. Don't fret, at least you won't be starving and you'll sleep better at night. We on the other hand will hang a little lower, knowing that we could not be used the way God intended -- as milk machines.

Sincerely,

Momma's Breasts


Now I know what you are all thinking, why didn't I just hang in there a little longer? Here's my train of thought in a nutshell. Breastfeeding is hard, it's really hard. No, it's REALLY REALLY hard. And when your baby can't get a hang of latching on, it's nearly impossible. I went to the lactation consultant, the woman revered as a goddess, but still could not get it. I tried pumping, but that was equally disastrous. We even rented one of those industrial pumps meant for cows and sheep that turn your nipples into little purple torpedoes it sucks so hard. And yes, I had plenty of milk. It's just that my baby hated it. He hated every drop of it.

Now formula, that was a different story. He loves it like a fat kid loves cake. Formula is his best friend.
No more spitting up, no more screaming at feedings, no more me crying that I can't feed my baby.

Deciding to formula feed was the hardest decision ever. And they say the biggest help to success with breastfeeding is a supportive partner -- Tyler was that and much much more. It just wasn't for us -- me and Max. He wanted no part of that breast feeding nonsense. So no, I won't feel guilty. I will relish in the formula induced coma that comes with each feeding so I can put on a little make-up or take a shower. I will embrace the times when daddy gets up to feed him because I don't have to. I will tuck those boobies back in a real bra and feed my baby with a bottle because heck, we say no to breast milk!

Okay, so I feel a little guilty. But hey, he's eating, he's thriving, what more can I do but love him? All I can say is that the Seibert household is much much happier with a well fed baby and if that means formula, so be it.

The long awaited arrival of baby boy Seibert, aka MAX... and the official birth story

So Maddox Michael Seibert finally arrived on July 30 at 9:27am.


Of course he didn't want to take the easy route into this world and he gave his Mama a lot of grief. What follows is the official birth story from the mouth of the birther:

That Friday (the 28th) I was in the foulest of moods. I felt horrible, achy, sore, sciatica acting up, upset stomach, headache, backache, footache... you name it. I told Tyler that we should go out for dinner because it might be our last hooraah before the baby came. So we went to dinner at Islands and came home and I thought I started to feel some contractions. But I couldn't really tell through all the other things plaguing my body. By the time I went to bed I was sure they were contractions, but they were pretty far apart so I didn't even tell Tyler about them. I went to bed and slept pretty poorly because the contractions kept waking me up.

In the morning, I woke up before Tyler and went into the living room to watch TV at around 5am. The contractions were definitely getting stronger so I woke Tyler up about an hour later to tell him that I think I was going into labor. We started counting and timing contractions. They were finally getting pretty strong and we waited for two hours while they were five minutes apart lasting a minute (actually they were about 2 minutes apart). You're only supposed to wait an hour but I didn't want to get sent home. So we grabbed our bags, jumped in the car, and waved goodbye to alone time as we sped down the 805 to Zion Hospital.

Well, we get there and I'm feeling them pretty strong now, not fun, they check me out and tell me I'm only dilated to 2 and they won't admit me until 4. SO... they send me home. I was SO mad. I wanted to just sit in the parking lot. Because at this point I had been in labor for well over 12 hours. And it wasn't even the bad part yet. That's coming.

So we go home, I'm pretty ticked about the whole thing. They tell me to walk around and eat stuff but I'm not hungry and my feet kill so I'm not having any of that. My parents came over to the house to help me pass the time because at that point, it was around noon time, the contractions had slowed down a lot. I ate some frozen pizza (which becomes important later) and Tyler and I decided to go see a movie. We were just on edge sitting at home so we thought we might as well sit in a theater and help take our minds off of it. We saw the second Pirates of the Caribbean (not as good as the first) and the whole time I'm having contractions and they are definitely getting stronger. It's funny to think I'm in this theater, in labor, and everyone else around me is oblivious. Needless to say we were sitting in the back because I would have to sit up and do breathing exercises every five minutes or so.

The movie got out about four o'clock and we went home and did some more waiting. At this point they were really strong but I still wanted to wait until I was about to die before I went back in. I DID NOT WANT TO GET SENT HOME AGAIN. Finally, around 7pm my water broke. I was sitting on the couch and felt this, like, rubber band snap and all of a sudden I'm running to the bathroom with amniotic fluid gushing out (sorry, I didn't mean to paint a picture, but that's the reality folks). So we jump in the car after getting a heads up from the nurses to come in.

Now I'm feeling it, the contractions at this point were about 2 minutes apart and REALLY strong. I asked for an epidural as soon as I was admitted and I could not have fallen more in love with my anesthesiologist. Epidurals are heaven. They are better than heaven. They are like heaven with ice cream and caramel and soft puppies that don't shed or chew things. I was able to get some sleep after that. Oh, but before that, this is where the pizza comes in again. As the nurses are getting me all set up and signed in I'm having contractions like crazy. And guess who wants to revisit the outside world -- oh yes -- the frozen pizza. I'm actually throwing up between contractions. It was hell.

Anyway, I'm laboring away in dreamland because I've just had an epidural and the nurses come to check me out and tell me it's time to start pushing. It had been about 36 hours of labor at this point. So I'm all drugged up from the epidural and can't feel my legs at all and these nurses are telling me to put my leg here, lift my foot over here, grab this bar, bear down. They are flipping me this way and that way to try and get me into a position to push the baby out, but he's just not coming out. An hour into the pushing, I'm exhausted and annoyed and just ready to have this be over, there is a shift change in nurses. This new nurse comes huffing in thinking she can run this place with the crack of her evil whip. She starts yelling, literally yelling, at me that I'm not pushing right. Who knew there was a right and wrong way to push!!! It's not like I had ever done it before (to this day I'm not sure what the right way is) and now I'm crying because I'm not doing it right, the epidural is wearing off and this nurse is yelling at me at a time when my hormones are completely crazy. Tyler asks me if I want to get a new nurse and I just say no and keep taking orders from her and crying and pushing and it's all this big horrible mess.

Well, lo and behold, after 2 1/2 hours of pushing the baby is not coming out. His heart rate had been dropping for a long time with each contraction and push so everyone was getting concerned. Finally a doctor (not a nurse) came in and said I could either try to keep pushing or get this baby out with a C-Section. I asked her opinion and she said she thought a C-Section was best because of his heart rate. So 45 minutes later I was wheeled into the operating room, completely numb from the chest down and five minutes after that I heard the first little sounds of my baby.


Tyler got to see the whole thing and he was the first one to hold him. He cut the umbilical cord, too. He took some pictures so I could see him. I wasn't allowed to hold him or see him until I had been through recovery (about 2-3 hours later).


Come to find out, the umbilical cord was wrapped around his head and neck which is the reason he wasn't progressing down the birth canal -- hence the C-Section. So, that nurse was wrong, I was pushing just fine. It was the baby's fault, if you have to fault someone. Needless to say, his head was pretty pointy when it came out, but it went away almost immediately.


And all in all the C-Section wasn't that bad. The recovery went well and I even got to leave a day early from the hospital (I couldn't take my roommates constant whines "Marco, my shoes" "Marco my socks" "Marco I'm hungry" etc, etc).

Ends up he's a pretty mellow little boy. He likes to eat and go right to sleep and doesn't give us too much grief. There was one choking incident in the hospital, but he turned back to pink after he was blue. We love him so very much!

So WELCOME TO THE WORLD our sweet little man!!


Oh, and P.S. TYLER WAS AWESOME. I could not have done it without him. He was by my side the whole time, holding my hand, helping me focus and loving me. I couldn't have asked for anything more and I wouldn't have wanted anyone else there with me. He's the best daddy, too!! (I think Max secretly loves Tyler more).