1.  What was the last thing you threw in the garbage/recycling?

A dirty diaper!

2.  What’s the #1 most played song on your iPod?

I don’t have an iPod.  I hate technology.  I can barely operate this computer.  For the reals.

3.  What is your favorite quote?

If you can’t find the bright side of life, polish the dull side.

4.  What chore do you absolutely hate doing?

Dusting… without a doubt.  I have allergies.

5.  What is your favorite form of exercise?

I like getting on the elliptical while watching TV or listening to the radio.

6.  What is your favorite time of day/day of the week/month of the year?

Time of day – Morning.

Day of the week – Friday.

Month of the year – December.

7.  What is on your bedside table?

A glass of water, lamp, Benedryl, hand lotion, and chapstick.

8.  What is your favorite body part?

I like my butt… but only with jeans on!

9.  Would you use the power of invisibility for good or evil? Elaborate.

Not necessarily evil, but I would definitely get into mischief.  Harmless fun!

10.  If you could choose to stay a certain age forever, what age would it be?

24.  I feel like I started getting old at 25.

11.  What is the first thing you would do if you won the lottery?

Finish the renovations on my home.

12.  What is your biggest pet peeve?

When my husband’s ADHD gets the better of him… drives me insane and makes my eye twitch!

13.  If you could know the answer to any question, what would it be?

I dunno… All I can think about is who shot Kennedy, but I don’t think that’s the best question to ask…

14.  At what age did you become an adult?

27.

15.  Recommend a book, movie, or television show in three sentences or less.

Read the Meaning of Night, watch Gone with the Wind, and watch Big Bang Theory.  Go now.

16.  What did you do growing up that got you into trouble?

Speeding and having a smart mouth.

17.  What was the first album you bought with your own money?

I don’t really remember… I really like listening to the radio instead.

18.  If someone wrote a book about you, what would be the title?

Hell to tha Yeah I’m Awesome!

19.  What story do you wish your family would stop telling about you?

When I found out Santa Claus didn’t exist.  I was twelve.  I cried.  No joke.

20.  True or false: The unicorn is the greatest mythical creature. State your case.

Unicorns?  Really?  I must have missed something here…

My Booger weighed in at 9 pounds and 15 ounces yesterday and is 21 inches long! – The Infertile Housewife

Also, this is the first time I have ever discussed or even acknowledged any of this.  I haven’t talked to anyone about this… Not my family, Banana Face, or anyone else.  This experience has been very painful for me as well as very shameful.  This has been a very difficult post to write.

This nightmare all started while I was still in the hospital after having Booger.  I remember when I breastfed him for the first time.  It was magical.  It was something very special that I had never experienced before.  It was a bond that had formed within seconds.  I will never forget it.

After a few tries and with the help of a nurse, we got his latch right.  The first day of breastfeeding somewhat flew by.  Per the request of the nurses, I was feeding Booger every two hours for twenty to thirty minutes a breast.  I was on morphine and didn’t really feel a lot.  I was very numb, forgetful, and easily confused.  I was also very emotional which is pretty normal for just having a baby.  I was very trusting as well.  After all, I had never done this before and the nurses knew what they were talking about.  Or so I thought.

It wasn’t until the second day that I started feeling the pain and coming out of my morphine-induced fog.  I was shocked to see that my nipples were beet red, swollen, bruised, and had blisters on them.  I went from being able to feed for thirty minutes a breast to around seven or eight minutes a breast.  I complained to the nurses and even visited with the hospital lactation consultant.  They all said the same thing… All of this was normal and that I was just going to have to pull through.  They then made a point to tell me that breast was best.  I asked about pumping exclusively and was told that it wasn’t a good option.  According to them, I wouldn’t be able to bond with my baby if I pumped.

By the third day, I was in total agony.  I cannot explain the pain that I felt.  It was unlike anything that I had ever felt before.  By now, my nipples were raw and had become open wounds.  I tried talking to the nurses again and all I was given was a condescending tone telling me once again that breast was best followed by being given a tiny tube of lanolin cream.  I asked to speak with the lactation consultant again.  She never came.  I realized that I was alone in all of this, and I was just going to have to deal with this on my own.  So, I tried.  I kept on breastfeeding even though I was in terrible pain.  This had to be normal, right?  The nurses said so…

By the fourth day, I was miserable and only functioning on two hours of sleep.  Booger was waking up all the time to feed, and I was in so much pain that I wasn’t sleeping well.  My nipples were still shredded and bloody.  The lactation consultant did finally come back to talk with me.  She tried giving me more tips to try, but I think she realized just how defeated I was becoming.  She told me to keep on trying, but if I needed to supplement with formula, it wasn’t a big deal.  Well, it was a big deal to me.  I did NOT want to do that.  I felt like if I didn’t breastfeed, I was a complete loser.  I definitely got that impression from the nurses.  I was in so much pain though, and I started to feel completely helpless and alone.  By nightfall, I was sobbing with every feeding.  Before now, I could push past the pain, but not now.  It hurt way too much.  I also started to pull away from my sweet child.  Every time he cried, my body would shudder.  I got to where I would dread hearing his cry.  It got so bad that the last thing I wanted was for him to touch me.  I started to dislike him, and I was starting to associate him with pain.

The last feeding I gave him in the hospital was the absolute worst.  It was so incredibly painful.  I was sobbing.  Every time Booger would latch on, pain would radiate through my entire body.  All I could do was to close my eyes really tight, and try not to scream.  Tears rolled down my face the entire time.  Truck Driver Burt was basically begging me to supplement with formula.  He couldn’t stand to see me like that anymore.  I was so stubborn though, and I was terrified of the nurses.  I didn’t want them to think that I had given up on breastfeeding, and I didn’t want them to think I was a bad mother for having to formula feed.  It took Truck Driver Burt an hour and a half to convince me to give Booger formula.  I couldn’t ask the nurses for it though.  I was too ashamed and also too hysterical.  I failed as a mother, I thought.  It didn’t help that Truck Driver Burt just didn’t get it either.  He didn’t understand why it was so difficult for me to choose formula.  He didn’t understand my shame.  I remember him telling me that I needed to get ahold of myself and that if I didn’t, they might not let me leave.  That was very hard to hear and very hurtful.  It took me about an hour to finally dry my tears and have him ask the nurse for formula.

When the nurse came in, I couldn’t even look at her.  I felt like such a failure, but I knew deep down that I couldn’t carry on like this any longer.  Booger was not getting enough to eat, and I was in agony.  I had to feed every hour at this point.  Enough was enough.  She didn’t say much when Truck Driver Burt told her I was in too much pain and that we needed formula.  I could feel her disapproval though.  It was palpable.

Once we had the formula, Truck Driver Burt was the one who had to feed Booger.  I watched my child finally get full.  I watched my child finally relax.  I watched my child finally become satisfied.  I had no idea he was that hungry.  All I could do was cry tears of joy.  I was so happy that I could finally give my child what he needed.  I had re-bonded with my child.  I didn’t look at him and think pain anymore.  It was finally over.

Then, the anger came.  Damn those nurses.  Damn them for making me feel like I had no other option.  Damn them for trying to make me feel like a failure.  And, damn them for letting my child go hungry.  I now knew I was a good mother whether I fed my child formula or not.

The next thing I know, in walks the nurse.  She was looking down her nose at me.  Truck Driver Burt told her we would be feeding formula for the rest of our stay at the hospital.  He also told her that our baby had been going hungry and that I wasn’t producing enough.  She snapped at him and asked him how he would know!  She then told me that I needed to be breastfeeding and that I should talk with the lactation consultant again.  I told her I already talked to the consultant and that the consultant told me it was okay to start supplementing with formula.  She then tried to tell me that the lactation consultant didn’t know what she was talking about.  At this point, I had lost my patience.  I got up out of my bed and stood in front of her so we could be eye level.  I was tired of feeling belittled.  I snapped at her and cut her off mid-sentence.  I told her I was going to feed formula, that I’ve only had two hours of sleep, and that now wasn’t the time for this fucking conversation.  She looked like I had hit her in the face with a bat, but she finally shut the hell up.  She ended up telling the other nurses that I had yelled at her and were mean to her.  The rest of my stay they all tiptoed around me, and acted like I was about to snap at any moment.

The next day, I finally went home with my new little family.  Before we made it home though, Truck Driver Burt stopped by Target and got me a breast pump.  Of course, I couldn’t use it for a week because I had to let my nipples heal.  My suspicions were confirmed when I finally started pumping.  It had been a little over two weeks since I gave birth, and my milk still hadn’t come in.  All I had in me was colostrum.  It would take me an entire day of off and on pumping just to get out a full ounce. My child was drinking two to three ounces a day.  Try telling me he wasn’t hungry.  When my milk finally did come in, it was pretty uneventful.  You always hear about women getting their milk to come in and how full their breasts were… Not mine. I barely had any in there.  I was pumping every two hours, and it was now taking me 48 hours to pump one full ounce.

Later on, I talked to my doctor and Booger’s pediatrician about my milk supply.  They both said the same thing.  Due to my hard labor, blood loss, and stress from breastfeeding, my milk supply was compromised, and it probably wouldn’t get better.  At this point, I just thought, “What the hell is the point?”  My child is mostly formula fed, and he is satisfied and thriving. I was done pumping. Taking care of a newborn is stressful enough without having to deal with this.  Shortly after this, my milk dried up all together.  I now feed my son strictly formula.

My intentions of telling this story are not to scare any of you out of breast feeding.  If you’ve decided to breastfeed, then good for you!  I think that is wonderful, and I’m very, very envious of you.  I wish I could.  I will admit though that I have guilt over not being able to breastfeed even though it’s not my fault.  It is something that I struggle with every day, and I am slowly working through my issues.  I wouldn’t be surprised if I always have this guilt though.  It seems to always be in the back of my mind, and I am still horrified and recovering from being judged and bullied by my nurses.  Because of this experience, I want women to know what their options are.  No matter what anyone says, formula feeding is okay.  Do I think it is just as good as breast feeding?  No. I do not, but I do think it is better than having your child go hungry.  Also, if a woman is uncomfortable with breast feeding or just doesn’t want to breast feed, that’s okay too.  It’s their business.  Not yours.  It’s their child.  Not yours.  And another thing… Never let anyone bully you about breast feeding… Not nurses, lactation consultants, doctors, or anyone else.  I wish I had known this prior to going to the hospital.  I assumed that the nurses and doctors had my and my baby’s best interest in mind.  They didn’t though.  I should have listened to my husband and my instincts.  Prior to formula, my baby was underweight, unsatisfied, and dangerously close to getting jaundice.  And, nobody would listen.  Also, this whole thing about not being able to bond with your baby over a bottle is COMPLETE and UTTER crap.  The feeding experience for a mother and child is special no matter what way it happens.  Remember that.  I’ve bonded with my child over breast and bottle.  I know what I’m talking about.  I want you to realize that you’re the mother, and it’s your job to look out for your child.  Please, listen to your instincts.  Mother knows best. – The Infertile Housewife

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup sugar

2 ½ teaspoons baking powder

¼ teaspoon salt

2 eggs

¾ cup milk

6 tablespoons melted butter

1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries

½ cup blueberry preserves

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Line twelve muffin cups with paper liners.  Set aside.
2. Stir together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl.  Set aside.
3. Whisk together eggs, milk, and the melted butter.  Add all at once to the dry mixture.  Stir until just moistened.  Fold in blueberries.
4. Spoon batter into muffin cups, filling almost half full.  Spoon 2 teaspoons of blueberry preserves into the center of each muffin.  Top with remaining batter to cover the preserves, filling muffin cups about two-thirds full.
5. Bake 20 minutes or until golden brown.

At my appointment, we found out that I was still only a centimeter dilated, and my cervix was still pretty hard.  Dr. Jersey told me that he wanted me checked into the hospital at ten that night.  Starting at midnight, he would have the nurses place Cervidal onto my cervix to start softening it.  Then, at around six or seven the following morning, he would start me on Pitocin and get the show on the road.  He said that my baby would probably be born around noon on January 29^th.

Since my appointment was over around four that afternoon, we still had quite a bit of time to kill so we decided to do some shopping, I got my hair done, we rented a suite for my parents to spend the night in, and then we had a nice hibachi dinner with my parents and Truck Driver Burt’s cousin.  I was amazingly calm, but it seemed like the time was slower than molasses in January.

At around 9:30 that night, we couldn’t stand it any longer and decided to make our way over to the hospital.  Once I got checked in, the nurses took me to my birthing suite.  It was really nice and hell, it even had its own living room and a couple of plasma flat screens.  Truck Driver Burt was in heaven.  For whatever reason though, I absolutely HATED it.  I was totally uncomfortable and uneasy…  Like, my skin was crawling uneasy.  It just seemed so big, and I felt so small.

Once the nurses got me hooked up to all the monitors and got finished asking me what seemed like a million questions, they finally got started on the Cervidal.  I got my first dose around midnight along with an Ambien, and then I got a second dose of Cervidal at three in the morning.

Around four that morning, I woke up and decided that I needed to pee.  I turned over to get out of bed and then it happened…  Something had started leaking out of me.  A normal person would assume that it was my water breaking right?  Oh hell to the no.  That would be way too easy.  I called the nurse to tell her that I thought my water broke… Her response?  “Is it sticky?”  Sticky??  How the hell do I know!  It’s four in the morning, I’m on Ambien, and I’m wet.  Come check me so I can pee.  Dang it.  So here she comes, sauntering into my room and lifts the sheet.   Immediately after doing so, her eyes got huge.  All she said to me was that I was bleeding and that she would be calling the doctor to come in.  BUT I STILL NEEDED TO PEE!!!  She wouldn’t let me up and made me pee into a bed pan.  Fine.  I wasn’t about to complain.  I went, and then I saw the bed pan.  Holy freaking shit.  The bed pan was half full of blood.  No joke.  Then, the Dr. Jersey came in, saw the blood, and calmly said that I might need a C-section.  He then checked my cervix, and when he pulled out his hand, I started pouring out blood.  When I say pouring, I mean POURING.  It soaked my bed and started running onto the floor in a matter of seconds.  Dr. Jersey jumped up and yelled that I was having a C-section immediately and for the nurses to get me prepped… And, off to surgery I went with Truck Driver Burt following shortly behind.  It all happened very quickly.

I remember about six or seven nurses buzzing around the operating room, and then I met the anesthesiologist.  She apologized for everyone hurrying around me and not taking the time to explain anything to me.  I told her it was fine and that I probably didn’t even want to know about everything that was going on and what was about to happen.  She chuckled and told me that it was time for my epidural.  I got really nervous about this because Truck Driver Burt was nowhere in sight and it became quite clear that I was going to have to have this epidural without him being there for me.  So, I took a deep breath, told myself to stop being such a baby, and held onto the nurse’s hand.  Honestly, the epidural wasn’t all that bad at all.  The numbing shot was the worst part, but even that wasn’t any big deal.  Felt like a bee sting.  After that shot, I just felt A LOT of pressure in my lower back and then just warmth.  It almost felt like someone was peeing on me.  I got super relaxed soon after.  I don’t know if it was all just from the epidural or if they started me on some kind of pain killer too, but I was pretty out of it.  I didn’t even recognize Truck Driver Burt when he walked in.  I thought he was just another nurse until he sat down by my head, and I put two and two together.

From here is where everything starts getting pretty spotty for me.  I don’t remember any kind of pressure or pulling when they cut me open.  I actually kept falling asleep during everything, and Truck Driver Burt had to shake me several different times to get me to wake up.  I know that really freaked him out.  Then all of a sudden we heard a tiny, very short cry.  He was out, and I knew from his cry that the cord was wrapped around his neck… And, it was… twice.

Afterwards, Truck Driver Burt went with the baby, gave him his first bath, and watched his son’s circumcision.  I was hauled off to recovery and put on morphine, and that’s really all I can remember from my son’s birth.  Oh, I do remember eating orange jello and shaking like a straight up crack head afterwards, but really that’s about it.

Dr. Jersey came into my room later on and explained what had actually happened to me.  By that time, my parents had arrived.  Evidently, I had what was called a placental abruption.  All that means is that my placenta completely separated from my uterus and popped like a balloon.  I lost half of my blood supply, Booger’s head was stuck in my pelvis, and the cord was wrapped around his neck twice.  Quite an exciting delivery if I do say so myself.  What can I say?  I like to do things up big.

Looking back on the whole experience, I would totally do it all over again.  Honestly.  Yeah, it was definitely hard on my body, but it really was all worth it.  Don’t get me wrong… I hope my next birth isn’t an emergency, but if it is… oh well.  I’ll deal with it because once I saw my son… everything about that imperfect delivery seemed… well, perfect. – The Infertile Housewife

Last Monday, I went to the doctor and learned that I was 1 centimeter dilated, and my cervix has softened.  My doctor went ahead and scheduled my induction for the night of the 28^th.

I’ve started preparing.  I’ve bought nursing bras, new pajamas, boob pads, witch hazel, and dermoplast.  I’ve started packing my bag and have charged the batteries to my camera too.

I’m beginning to wonder what Booger is going to look like and what his personality is going to be like.  There is nothing more I want than a little boy who looks like Truck Driver Burt’s Mini Me and to have him be easy going like his father.

But, who knows… He might end up looking like me and have a very outgoing, aggressive personality.  Not to toot my own horn, but that wouldn’t be so bad either.

I have begun to think about my labor and what I want it to be like.  I’ve decided that I want a vaginal birth, and yes, I am getting an epidural.  However, the most important thing I want to have happen is have everyone and everything around me be quiet… and still.  I want nothing but calmness around me.  If you’re hyper and excited, get the hell outta my room.  I don’t want any nurses or doctors coming around me, screaming at me to PUSH!!!  The last couple months of my pregnancy have been ugly, crazy and very dramatic.  I’d really like to elaborate and tell the whole story, but I really don’t know if I should.  Let’s just say that a “family member” has treated me and my immediate family very poorly, and I’ve had to cut them out of my life COMPLETELY.  This person has made it their mission to try and completely ruin the experience of my pregnancy, and they’ve damn near succeeded.  This person caused me major anxiety, heartache, early contractions, and heart palpitations.  Because of this person, my life and the life of my unborn child have been in jeopardy.  Just talking about it right now is getting my anger level up.  I despise this person now.  I’ve definitely started to feel protective of my child, and I do not want this person to be around my child.  Like, ever.  Come hell or high water, I will make it my life’s mission to never have this person interact with my child, and I do not care who likes it or not.  After everything that has happened, I just need everything to be calm and quiet and relaxed… Or, as relaxed as labor can be.

This coming Monday, I’m going back to the doctor for a checkup.  I still need to pick up a few odds and ends for my hospital stay.  I also need to get my car detailed, the car seat put in, and give Mushy Tushy a bath.  Wish me luck. – The Infertile Housewife

The Jenny Lind crib was mine as a baby, the metal pedal car was my mother’s as a child, my father refinished the dresser for a changing table, and Truck Driver Burt made the book shelves behind my rocking chair! – The Infertile Housewife

1. Why did you make the decision to start trying to conceive and how long have you been trying?

My husband and I got married, bought a home, and decided that the next step we wanted to take together was to become parents.  We tried for 3 years before I got my BFP.

2. What is the worst thing someone has said to you during your TTC journey so far?

Just relax.  Just so everyone knows, relaxing was not my problem.  If I had listened to that advice, I still wouldn’t be pregnant.

3. When and why did you start your blog? Do you have more than one blog?

I became very frustrated and felt like I was alone in my TTC journey.

4. What do you do for a living? Is it your dream job, if not what is?

I help my family ranch, and I am a soon-to-be SAHM.

5. What is your favorite book?

The Meaning of Night by Michael Cox.  It is AH-MAZE-BALLS.  Best book I’ve ever read.

6. How do you relax when TTC gets tough?

Listening to Kidd Kraddick in the Morning on the internet while drinking a glass of wine.

7. If you could live anywhere in the world where would you live?

As long as I’m with my husband and dog… anywhere.

8. What is currently playing on your ipod?

I don’t have one.

9.  What is your favorite TV show?

Just about anything on BravoTV… except for Millionare Matchmaker.  I can’t stand that hoe.

10. What is the most useful piece of advice you have been given (doesn’t have to be fertility related)?

Trust your instincts.

11. Dog or cat person?

Dog.  I’m very allergic to cats.

A few things have happened over the past couple months…

I got an IPhone.  Actually, Truck Driver Burt made me.  I still have my reservations about it, and I still miss my obsolete Blackberry.  I’m also not very good at typing on it which is why I need a computer to update this dang blog.  Boo.

My baby shower.

Half of the stuff I received I had no clue how to use.  Luckily, Banana Face was there to enlighten my dumbass.  I STILL am not sure how I use my diaper genie, and I damn sure don’t remember how to load new bags into it.  I kept all the instructions.

Banana Face had exploratory surgery recently.  They found a huge cyst on her uterus and had it removed.  She will soon be starting Clomid, and her doctor says she sees no reason why Banana Face can’t get pregnant now.  We are all very optimistic and excited.

A few of my own doctor visits.  Blah.

Truck Driver Burt and I trying our damnedest to turn a hideous room into something extra special.

I’m almost finished with the nursery.  After pictures to come!

Mushy Tushy is absolutely fascinated with all the baby stuff in the nursery.  She has tried to steal EVERYTHING.  Pillows, diapers, toys, bedding… you name it, she wants it.  This should be real interesting…

As of today, I’m 36 weeks and 4 days pregnant.  This past Monday, I had my latest appointment.  Holy shit balls was it painful.  My doctor informed me that Booger’s head is already down into place, but my cervix was still very hard.  Since my cervix still has a ways to go, Dr. Jersey is letting me go two weeks before I have my next appointment.  Next time I see him, we will discuss a scheduled c-section and induced vaginal birth.  Because Truck Driver Burt always works out of town and sometimes out of state, we have to plan everything out.

Today, I’m expecting a delivery of all the last minute stuff I needed for the nursery.  I can’t wait to update ya’ll on it.  It is so stinkin’ cute!!! – The Infertile Housewife

2 Cups Sugar

2 Cups Tang

½ Cup Instant Tea

½ Cup Country Time Lemonade Mix

2 t Cinnamon

1 ½ t Allspice

Mix all ingredients together and store in an air-tight jar.  It takes 2-3 tablespoonful’s in a cup of hot water. – The Infertile Housewife