I always want her to know that she is not her sister. But at the same time, I want her to know her sister. I want her to know what happened. To know that she has a guardian angel looking out for her. That her big sister is always watching over her. I know they would have grown up to be best friends. I just hope that they can still find a connection even when they are so far apart. She smiles. Smiling back at her. That they are already friends.
And truth or not, I choose to believe that this is the case. Because as a grieving parent, this would be the best of both worlds. Now, our first few days and nights in the hospital were not easy. Baby K wanted to eat…all the time. She would feed, lay in her bed for 5 minutes, and then scream for more food. We were tired. We were frustrated. On day two, I told our nurse my concerns.
I told her that my breasts hurt every time she fed.
And in between too. That I was tired. I was frustrated. I was done. This nurse basically told me to suck it up. That I would have to deal with it. End of story. I was hurt. I dreaded her crying for food. Dreaded having to hold her…because holding her meant having to feed her.
I became depressed. It was a dark time. J could sense my despair as the day went on. He understood when I told him how I felt. He agreed that it sucked. I was heartbroken.
And the depression stuck with me for the remainder of our hospital stay. When we left the hospital, I was still feeling down. I hurt. My incision hurt. My neck hurt. My back hurt. My boobs hurt. By this time, Baby K was sucking incredibly hard.
My nipples felt like they would fall off. She was having dirty and wet diapers, but she always seemed hungry.
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When she latched, she sucked hard. My nipples began to bruise. I cried every time we fed.
My boobs were also extremely engorged and my ducts were blocked…even though we fed her often. Something was definitely wrong. As they wheeled me out of the hospital, we asked to stop at my OB office. We wanted to show the ladies our beautiful baby girl. We also wanted to show the ultrasound technician who had done all but a few of our ultrasounds.
The desk ladies thought she was so pretty. One ran off to get the technician. When she came around the corner, we hugged. We cried. She was so happy for us. We thanked her for taking such good care of our baby in utero. Then, it was time to head to the car.
Getting in the car was a different story. I decided to ride in the back with Baby K in case she started to fuss. I hurt everywhere and the ride home was very uncomfortable. On the way home, J decided that we should stop and see Maelie.
As we drove past, I began to cry. I wished so much that she could be here with her sister. Wished that my grandma could be here to see my beautiful girl. It was a bittersweet moment. About halfway home, Baby K got hungry. She started to fuss…. I tried my best to calm her. Right there in the car…I wished we had one. I did my best to soothe her by giving her my finger to suck on. J went in alone. I kept letting baby K suck on my finger. After 10 minutes, J returned to the car…empty-handed.
They had given him trouble with it. Saying that it would take almost an hour to get the medicine. He was mad. He decided to take me home and have my mom come over to help take care of me and baby K while he ran back out. When we got home, he helped me out of the car and into the house. He brought baby K in.
She was screaming bloody murder by this time. Clearly, she was hungry. I began to feed her. Clenching my back and neck as she latched on.
Crying from the pain. Nothing about breastfeeding was pleasant for me. Nothing was relaxing. Soon after, my mom arrived. I began to talk with my mom about my frustrations.