I never thought breast feeding would be so hard for me. It seemed like it would just be natural, from what I saw from experience to videos they showed us in our pregnancy classes.

The first time I tried nursing, it hurt more than I thought possible. I was told the pain I was describing wasn't normal and to hold off on nursing him and they would get the lactation consultant to me asap. Then, I had a change of nurses who told me it was supposed to hurt at first. I'm easily influenced by people and because she made me feel dumb and like I didn't know what I was doing, I did what she said. Once Watson finished "eating" I was extremely bruised and bleeding and in excruciating pain. But I powered through and didn't say anything to anyone.

Once the lactation consultant came to work with me she was appalled at what she saw. She immediately checked inside Watson's mouth and noticed that he was tongue tied. Looking back I see how blessed we were to have Rebecca, the inpatient lactation consultant to work with those three days in the hospital. Not only did she come to help me at the allotted times, but she came a few extra times to check up on us. Through conversation we found out she loved Jesus, and it created a bond and a new way of conversation that God has used to carry me through this first month of motherhood.  We were instructed to pump and feed Watson with a syringe, until told otherwise.

Because I wanted so bad to feed my baby, I did this but I also kept trying to nurse (not a good idea).

Our pediatrician quickly confirmed that Watson was tongue tied and she quickly got him an appointment for the very next day (a Saturday) to have his "surgery" (They snip the frenulum). The doctor continued to encourage us saying that usually this isn't caught until almost 2 months in and that we were extremely lucky - apparently Watson had the WORST suck she had ever felt in her life and the most severe of tongue ties. He wasn't sucking, he was biting, she said. She kept telling me "this will get easier."  The lady who preformed the procedure told us that if we didn't get it done Watson would probably have a speaking problem, have trouble eating from a spoon and probably wouldn't ever be able to use his tongue to get food out of his teeth. She also looked at Seth and told him I was extremely brave to let Watson nurse (that was nice to hear).

The surgery went quickly and then they wanted me to feed him right after. It was a disaster. Watson was hurting and didn't really know how to nurse well. There was blood all over me, all over his face. I collapsed into tears. The thoughts going through my head? "I can't feed my own child. There is nothing I can do to help him."

Watson's suck certainly was better but I was still extremely sore. Watson wasn't gaining weight well and every time he tried to eat I bit my lip and shook my head in pain, often times tears coming out of my eyes. When I wasn't feeding him, I couldn't hold my own baby, not because I didn't want to, but because holding him reminded me that I was incapable of feeding and providing for him, the way I was supposed to be able to. I had just started a new doctor prescribed regimen of feeding him and then pumping right after and feeding him that, to help him gain weight.

Eventually I fell into a deep depression. I remember waking up one morning and I had fallen into a strike. My baby was crying and hungry and there I was, lying in the fetal position, crying and refusing to feed him. It hurt too much, I couldn't give him what he needed anyway and I was a failure. Eventually I fed my baby and  I went to work with Seth that day. I didn't want to be alone.

My doctor called me that day to check up on me (Seth had emailed her concerned about me). She gave me extremely encouraging words that motivated me to keep going and encouraged me to make an appointment with the lactation consultant.  Monday we returned to the doctor and Watson had passed his birth weight. I felt like hope had been restored. That same week I went to the lactation consultant and it went really well. Then, the next day, I woke up with extreme chills. I was shaking and confused. I remember thinking "am I in shock, am I dying?" I eventually threw up and had a fever that rose to 102.8. I had mastitis. An infection in my breast. After a day on an IV at urgent care (it was July 4th) and antibiotics, I seemed to be back to normal.

Things have seemed to improve since then, Watson is gaining weight and seems happy (for the most part). His latch is still horrible and still hurts and I get blisters often - but apparently I'm not alone in all this. This happens to others. I pray his latch will improve and my pain will stop, but I've learned a few things through this experience.

• Motherhood, like many things, is sadly full of judgment and my heart has been broken for others who may have had to walk through what I did while having others judging them on the sidelines.
• Motherhood is also full of encouragers and encouragement and people rallying for you and by you.
• While "breast is best," my child eating and not starving is actually even better than best. I have not had to supplement with formula, yet, but if I do that is okay! 
• It's okay that I have had to pump and use a bottle (Before all this I was determined to only use a bottle on occasions - if that)
• My husband is amazing.
• God has shown me how much he loves me, my family and how he will never never leave us nor forsake us. For that, I'm so thankful.