the boob, the boob, the boob is on fire

I was going to write about how much better the day to day has gotten. But then I woke up this morning in extreme pain, followed by chills and a feverish feeling. I could feel the plugged duct causing the mastitis. I must have gotten it unplugged because when rowan nursed he was having to swallow so fast that I was scared he would choke. And then I pumped 3oz from that side alone.   This morning I had the telltale red streaks radiating out. 

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Lactation Graduation

Happy World Breastfeeding Week!

One of the hardest things for me during the last few months has been the total helplessness that I have felt.  I don’t do helpless well.  Yes, Rowan has made tremendous strides, but none of them felt like I was really a requirement.  A team of OBs bought him that extra two weeks in utero, a team of neonatologists and nurses helped him thrive in the hospital.  I have felt like a bystander through most of his first few months.  It felt like everything was being done to us.

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“Hey doc, how’s about a refill”

Today was appointment day (a lot of days are appointment days). 

First, I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. While my therapist and pretty much everyone else have agreed that I’m handling things very well considering the circumstances, I’m still overwhelmed and having some days of major anxiety. The last few months have been long and hard and more than a bit terrifying. I’m already on Zoloft for seasonal affective disorder/anxiety (which should come as a surprise to exactly no one, though I’m sure my mom’s dialing finger is itching right now), so we agreed it would hurt nothing to bump it up a bit. Obviously a lot is situational, but there is no need  to suffer just for the sake of suffering. 

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