Uncensored

Part 17

A couple of weeks into doing the tongue and lip stretches, we had a follow-up with the pediatric dentist who had performed the revision and he said that there was significant reattachment. At that point, I figured we're were already knee-deep into all of this, so I consented to a second revision. More pain and more trauma for Max. As I experienced firsthand, second revisions are more painful because there is already more scar tissue. My heart broke for my little one each time I had to make him cry, again and again, each time I saw his crocodile-tears and the pure lack of understanding just why I was doing this to him.

Max seemed to be a fast healer and weeks later I found out that the coconut oil I was told to use for the stretches sped up healing even more (which in our case wasn't a good thing). At our follow-up appointment 1.5 weeks later, there was already signs of reattachment again. The dentist stretched Max so hard that the wound ripped open again and told me to stretch harder. For the next two weeks, Max did not only scream when I stretched his tongue (without coconut oil!), he also bled as each time I tore the reattaching tissue. Ironically, I don't think not even that saved us from some more reattachment, but I never went back for another follow-up. My husband and I decided that we would not do a third revision either way. We would just wait and see if there would be problems with eating solids and speech and I was so afraid it had all been for nothing.

The tongue- and lip tie revision(s) did only marginally improve Max's milk transfer. At first, I was disappointed, but over time I made peace, not only with the fact that I did not produce enough milk, but also that Max still could not remove all of the little milk I made. Of course, I had to continue to pump so that I would not completely dry up. Still, over time my milk production went down. I'm not entirely sure why.. It could have been just happening naturally or it could have been because pumping 5 times a day just wasn't enough (which I knew, but I just couldn't do any more pumping than that without losing my sanity). My supply was also quite sensitive to lack of sleep, stress, and how much I ate. After I initially lost 20lbs of pregnancy weight really fast after giving birth, my weight loss stagnated. The fact that I was eating a caloric deficit did not seem to make a difference- the weight just stuck. Sure, there were regular chocolate-attacks and plenty of stress- and emotional eating. But those did not seem to hurt my weight loss efforts as much as cutting even more calories seemed to hurt my milk supply. (So then why on earth would I not choose the chocolate instead?!)

One last hope remained for me as my supply slowly decreased: I wanted my son to continue comfort nursing. Every other hope I had had of exclusively breastfeeding, the lip and tongue tie revisions, and both cranio-sacral therapy and seeing a chiropractor with Max had been shattered. But we had one thing left: despite it all he enjoyed nursing.

Some children get very frustrated when the milk supply goes down, many children wean themselves of the breast and eventually nurse less or refuse the breast, but others continue to nurse even when there is little to no milk left, simply for comfort. I hope that, because Max had never associated nursing with "a full meal" (since he had never gotten one from my boob!) that he would be one to continue comfort nursing even as my supply went down further and further. I wanted to have this ONE thing with him. Not only is it incredibly convenient to be able to put your baby to the boob when they fuss, as it will almost guarantee that they calm down, but it is a beautiful connection in and of itself.

Max and I would travel to Germany all by ourselves the end of the year. By then, Max would already be nine months old. I was terrified of that flight. First of all, I was terrified that I would not get one of those sleeping bassinets for Max (I was told they were first-come-first-serve and I'd have to request it when I got to the airport but couldn't do anything until then) and I was also afraid of a crying, screaming child on a cramped aircraft. I hoped with all my heart that Max would still comfort nurse at nine months old, so that I had at least that one thing I could do for him and to assure us both. But at four months old, nine months seemed an eternity away. Of course, it wasn't, because life moves so fast with a baby and one year of maternity leave is over in a blink of an eye. But so much could happen until then, and if anything, I was sure that I would not produce much milk at that point. My supply was already going down and over time I would only pump less (to be able to do more other things), which would accelerate things. By the time Max's grandfather would visit in October and there would be some travel, I expected to dry up. I couldn't know how things would turn out and if Max would give us the gift of comfort nursing. Sometimes he already got impatient at the breast, but I think it was a mixture of distractibility and impatience, while he still liked to hang out there and go to sleep other times.

People kept telling me that I had done everything I could. And that was true. I did. And I was damn proud. But it still hurt. In a sea of broken hopes, there was one thing I still wanted, and as much as I had worked on making peace, as much as I had accepted IGT, I couldn't yet let go of that.