Dear Peanut

Dear Peanut,

Earlier this week, we went to visit Dra.CTP for your second checkup and she made it official that you are fat. Okay, so harsh. But yeah, you’re too heavy for your age. Your current weight (4.2 kg) at 1.5 months should be your weight when you’re 2 months old. Ayan, ang takaw takaw mo kasi! Anyway, nothing serious. But Dra.CTP told us to lower the amount of FM we give you during feedings.

The other night, we watched Judy Ann Santo’s movie titled Sakal, Sakali, Saklolo while waiting for the next feeding at 12am. We laughed so hard because many of the “grandparents” scenes reminded us of our own parents—your Lola Mommy, Lolo Daddy, and Lola Mama. There was a scene there when the grandparents were complaining about the parents’ decision not to give too many cakes, candies, and ice cream to an already fat kid.

A few minutes ago, while I was watching you sleep on your Daddy’s chest, I got to thinking. Most people, especially Filipinos, tend to let kids eat as much candy, cakes, and ice cream because they want the kids to “enjoy their childhood.” And we’re talking about small kids, like 5-year-olds.

It makes me wonder…sure, these sweets were parts of our childhood too. But I have no distinct memory of my parents letting me eat all the ice cream and cakes that I wanted. Probably not because it didn’t happen, but most likely because they didn’t want me to get too fat that I won’t fit in my clothes anymore.

Okay, I was a fat kid. Wait, I wasn’t that fat. I didn’t look like the Michelin man but I sure had a hard time getting rid of the baby fats. I remember having insecurities about my baby fats all the way till 6th grade. I officially got rid of the fats when I got my braces in freshman high school. I lost so much weight in 2 months (I think) because I couldn’t eat anything other than soft bread and Cheese Whiz, and Knorr soup. They’re not healthy foods but the pain of wearing braces took their toll on me. I hope you won’t inherit my teeth problems (namamana ba yung sungki?) so you won’t have to wear braces like I did.

As we were fitting you into your onesie this morning, your father and I agreed on another parenting plan: We would train and encourage you to eat healthy foods for as long as we can (hangga’t hindi ka makakapalag, hahaha) and teach you that sweets are optional treats.

The thing about Filipino eating habits is that many people think of dessert as something you can’t go without and you should have it every single day with every single meal.

If we teach you to think that sweets are optional treats you can enjoy after a meal (but not every meal), then you can lower your risk for obesity. And if you are healthy and fit, then the more you can enjoy these sweet indulgences.

I disagree that you should allow kids to eat as many sweets as they can because it’s part of their childhood. Hell, young kids won’t even remember it. I mean, if I ate an entire chocolate like that scene in Matilda, I want to be old enough to remember it and old enough to know that it’s wrong. I want you to enjoy all the cake slices that you want but in moderation.

Why are we doing this? Because we want you to enjoy life and all the sweets it can offer.

So that when you grow up, you can be the Fat Kid Inside and marry someone as beautiful and amazing as Anne Curtis (your mother is such a fan of the #ErwAnne love team). But for now, you are officially the “Fat Kid Inside the House of Derla.”

xoxo,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

As you turned, officially, 6-week-old today, I want to share with you a photo of the medical team who did our stat CS operation last November 2, 2017.

When we were pregnant, we received A LOT of advice—both solicited and unsolicited. We listened to most of them but there were also some we dismissed almost immediately.

Back in Malaysia, I remember how I Google-d the shit out of everything the moment we found out about you. We didn’t know a thing. So we wanted to be prepared for our first prenatal checkup.

I remember how I would have a long list of questions for our first OB-GYN, Dra.AZ, and how she would often find my “praning” questions funny. She was very patient with me and we liked her. But I also felt that since she’s Malaysian and we’re Filipinos, there was this sense of “disconnection” because she couldn’t relate to the things we were concerned about—like if I could color my hair during my pregnancy.

So that led me to Google a lot, instead, and ask my “mommy friends.”

When we went back to Manila and met our Filipino OB-GYN for the first time, I was also prepared with a list of questions. Dra.JMF answered them all but I sensed that she saw through my “ka-praningan” and found my real problem. I research a lot that I often end up scaring myself to the point of stressing myself out. And you know what, she gave me one of the best advice we were given: Stop reading mommy blog and forums. If you have questions, ask your doctor.

As a writer, researching is part of what I do, and probably who I am. When Dra.JMF pointed out my problem, I realized that I was depriving myself of the joys of pregnancy because of my fears. Mommy blogs, forums, and many related websites tend to contradict one another that you can get stuck in the middle—paralyzed and more confused than ever. What you need to do is to find good doctors and trust them.

I’d like to dedicate this blog post to the amazing doctors who took care of us when we gave birth to you. It was such an amazing experience! :) And we will forever be grateful for the generosity they extended to us.

XOXO,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

You’re officially 6 weeks old today.

Your daddy and I are still wide awake at exactly 1:21 AM, trying to finish some of the backlogs we have while you’re sleeping. Two hours from now you’ll wake up, just in time for your 3AM feeding.

We know that clocks and time don’t mean anything to babies as young as you are. But we have successfully trained you to wake up every two or three hours to feed. Yey! Six weeks na din kami puyat, dilat, at bangag due to sleep deprivation.

We have so much to tell you, anak. So many stories about our shared firsts. We often talk to you and you would goo and gaa and make baby sounds nobody understands but for now, all we can do is chronicle them in this blog so you can read them someday.

Today, I want to go back to your Day 1 here on Earth and tell you about your daddy’s Tuxedo Mask (reference to Sailor Moon) transformation and why, I think, he’s the most valuable player in our birthing gameplay.

I remember it all so vividly—the moment your father entered the operating room on November 2, 2017 a few minutes before 5:00 PM (You were born at exactly 4:55PM). He was wearing a lab coat and medical cap, all eager to see his mag-ina. He saw me first, sprawled on the operating table—naked and wide awake. He went to me first and soon, the doctor carried you to us and finally, we are three.

I noticed that he was teary-eyed. But I also noticed that half of the Go-Pro camera, which was attached to his head, was covered by the medical cap he was wearing. So, most of the photos and videos he took with the GoPro had that “medical cap” blue filter. It was a bit annoying, after all, your birth is a once-in-a-lifetime event, but also funny because he spent almost a week trying to figure out how to use the GoPro we borrowed from your aunt. He panicked and poof, medical cap blue filter.

Photo taken after the doctors told him that the medical cap was covering the GoPro camera.

I remember it all so vividly—the moment I saw him enter our private room at the hospital as though I was seeing him for the first time again. I felt like I had been away from him for days, even months, even though I only stayed at the recovery room for 2.5 hours before they transferred me.

He was out fixing some paperwork when they wheeled me to our room. I was wide awake, eager to share with everyone how our operation went. Your grandparents were the ones who helped me get comfortable in our room and then your daddy arrived and kissed me on the forehead and congratulated me for a job well done.

I remember it all so vividly—our first night at the hospital. Perhaps, that was when the exact moment of his Tuxedo Mask transformation finally happened. We had a small room, with only a couch for your father to sleep on. It was only the three of us in the room that night because we insisted that we can survive the night on our own.

I couldn’t move and I kept on asking for water. At the same time, you were crying and asking to be fed. I remember how your daddy would help me drink water using a straw (because I couldn’t get up) and how he would soothe your cries and bring you to me to breastfeed.

Your daddy had two patients to take care of that night and all the nights that followed during our 5-day staycation at TMC. I couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling—exhausted and overwhelmed. The two of us were running on endorphins and love.

I remember how afraid he was to hold you at first, but soon got the hang of it. I remember how we juggled sleeping rotations—the first of many. I remember how one time, he screamed because you pooped and it smelled horrible and he had to clean you up for the first time.

I remember that I laughed at him first but also brimmed with pride because it was the first of many nappy changes. Fast forward six weeks, you would shoot a poop while he’s changing your nappy and the yellowish goo would land on his feet. And now, we're both experts in diaper changes.

I remember it all so vividly—how your father embraced and held me close during our 4th night at the hospital while you were at the NICU bathing at their fancy tanning salon. I was crying and feeling terrified and disappointed and stressed and exhausted. But it was also your father who answered the call the following morning and we were told that Dra.CL already gave your discharge orders.

I remember it all so vividly—how your daddy would give me my pain meds and help me get up from bed when the anesthesia finally wore off. And he continued to do this when we got home. I remember our first few days and nights at home when we both would get up to feed and change your nappy. I remember how sometimes, your father would do it all on his own because I was still recovering from the operation and needed sleep.

As a first-time mother battling with flat nipples and latch-on issues, coupled with sleep deprivation and fear of not knowing a shit about motherhood, it is so easy to get disappointed and frustrated when you finally realize that taking care of a newborn baby is not all rainbows and butterflies.

I remember how your daddy would take charge and take care of everything when I am near my snapping point that sometimes, I would feel envious of how he’s able to get you to calm down and sleep at 3:00 o’clock in the morning. He said I need to be more patient, a virtue I’m still having a hard time developing.

Giving birth and taking care of a newborn baby really requires teamwork. We have always been independent, your father and I, but as we soon learned, it really takes a village to raise a child. In the weeks that followed your arrival at home, your grandparents made their rounds to help us around the house, bring home-cooked meals and fruits, force-feed me malunggay, and take care of you. I couldn’t imagine how it would have been if we gave birth abroad. And now, even with YayaL in the house, we're still very hands-on with you.

If taking care of a newborn baby is a game and we’re one big team, then your father would definitely be the most valuable player. Yes, I was the one who carried you for 9 months and it was me who went through the operation. But all these things wouldn’t be possible without the support of our entire family and the patience of your father.

I’d like to take a line from your daddy’s latest love letter to me and make it my own, “I believe that taking him as the man to be by my side may just as well be the most important decision I have made in my life.”

And I will always remember all these moments and the moments that have yet to be made—because each of them reminds me of how I never knew I could love even more until I held both of you in my arms for the first time.

Love,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

Today’s Friday and since I have brunch with your Ramen aunties tomorrow at Shangri-La Plaza, your daddy and I agreed that he would take the 3AM shift and I’ll take over the 6AM shift. Even if we have full-time help at the condo now, your father and I are still 100 percent hands-on with you.

We were told (over and over again, by fellow parent-friends) that the first few months will be hard because of sleep deprivation. We thought we’d wing it and it wouldn’t be much of a change since we’re used to sleeping really late. But my god, sleep deprivation when you have a newborn is fucking different (more on that later).

Anyway, we have so many things to tell you. But let me write a quick blog entry about a kurot-sa-puso moment I had a few minutes ago before I work on some pending projects.

Your daddy said he’ll take a power nap first but you cried and he picked you up from your crib. He placed you on top of his chest, where you like to sleep, so you can calm down. I entered our bedroom and saw the two of you sleeping.

You’re so tiny. Your entire body could not even cover the length of your father’s torso. Your outstretched arms are hugging your father’s chest, trying to cover as much area as you can. Nakadapa ka sa chest ng daddy mo, so your nappy is facing upwards and your tiny face is secured under your daddy’s chin.

I just wanted to get the phone charger, haha. But I slipped my 5-week postpartum body beside your daddy and stared at you two for a while. You’re still half awake, trying to see where the light is coming from (I opened the lights when I entered the room). Your lips are moving and I wonder what you’re thinking.

For a while there, I wonder if you’ll remember any of these moments when you grow up. I wonder if you’ll remember that your parents have chosen shared parenting. I wonder if you’ll remember the little things and little moments like these that make every sleepless night worth it. I wonder if you’ll remember all of these so that you can appreciate them in the future.

Of course, you won’t remember any of these details because you’re still so young. I can’t even recall my earliest memories as a baby.

I don’t have memories of wailing so late into the night, of my nappy getting changed, of baby-self being bathe and cooed and fed. I don’t have memories of being held in my parents’ arms not because they didn’t happen, but because I was too young to remember. I was too young to remember how they probably felt all the joy, fears, pride, disappointments, and overwhelming happiness your father and I are feeling now.

And it makes me wonder, if only children can remember all the things their parents have sacrificed for them in their first few hours, days, weeks, months, and years of life, our relationships with our parents would probably get better, best even.

If only children can remember all the late nights and all the little things parents do for them when they were still babies--scared and helpless, we would probably look at our parents more lovingly and with more understanding eyes.

If only children can remember all the sacrifices their parents have made, make, and will continue to make for them right from the very start, we would probably understand our parents all the more and won’t ever double guess if they do love us or not.

And that’s actually the point of this blog.

SC and I want to document all these little things because you’re too young to make memories yet. And we also want you to know that as new parents, we make a lot of mistakes, and sometimes, it’s so easy to snap and cry because of the combination of fear and sleep deprivation.

We are sometimes afraid that we’re doing things wrong. We are sometimes afraid because it’s a totally new ball game for us and even if we’ve read the rules, we are still crafting our own gameplay.

Parents are born as soon as their babies are born. And it feels like we’re pushed inside the ring without much of a prep. We want you to know that we’re learning, and we’re learning fast.

Lastly, through the blog, we want you to know that sometimes, we lose our shit. We’re just often good at hiding it.

XOXO,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Hello there!

My own breastfeeding journey (read it here, here, and here) has made me a strong advocate of Mixed Feeding. When Smart Parenting published an edited version of my original blog (read it here) on their website, it made me realize that there are so many mothers out there who give their babies BOTH breast milk and formula milk.

I launched the new series Mixed Feelings Mixed Feedings #MFMF on the #DearPeanut Blog because I wanted to help fellow mixed feeding mothers share their own stories about the struggles and triumphs, fears and hopes, pride and disappointments about the feeding process, particularly how they decided to mix feed their babies and their feelings about it.

The goal is to provide a venue where fellow moms can share their feeding stories - whether it's breastfeeding, bottlefeeding, formula feeding, and/or mixed feeding. The goal is to help spread love and support because as parents, we all want the best for our kids, right?

The real pressures to exclusively breastfeed (direct latch, no bottle feeding breastmilk) has become so EXTRA that many people now think feeding your baby formula milk is synonymous with giving poison.

Mothers shouldn't be made to feel they're committing a crime or an injustice if they give their babies formula milk. This is just utterly wrong. Don’t we all want the best for our babies? I think there’s an urgent need for stronger support for women who formula feed but still want to give breastmilk for as long as they can.

If you have stories and/or lessons to share, please see the mechanics below on how to join.

1.  Send you story to me via email (kceustaquio@gmail.com) or Facebook Messenger (Kath C. Eustaquio-Derla or Author Kath C. Eustaquio-Derla)
2.  Your story should be at least 300 words and written in English. Taglish is acceptable, but the entry should be written mostly in English.
3.  Please attach at least 3 photos to accompany your story. Maximum of 5 photos per entry.
4.  Don’t worry about grammar. Our editors will review and edit your story before we publish them online.
5.  All approved stories will be published on the #DearPeanut blog and shared on Facebook.

What are you waiting for? Share your #MixedFeelingMixedFeeding #MFMF stories today.


SUBMISSIONS

1. #MFMF: Kallisha Kring's Mixed Feeding Journey
2. #MFMF: Rachele Ranet-de Sagun's Mixed Feeding Journey
3. #MFMF: K A R L A 's Mixed Feeding Journey
4. #MFMF: Marlette Luz Valdez Fulay's Mixed Feeding Journey
5. #MFMF: Crizia Eugenio's Mixed Feeding Journey
6. #MFMF: Marie Antonette's Mixed Feeding Journey
7. #MFMF: Zhy Permejo Guinto's Mixed Feeding Journey
8. #MFMF: Marla Mae Centeno's Mixed Feeding Journey
9. #MFMF: Tens Ogbinar Celis' Mixed Feeding Journey
10. #MFMF: Aidelenn Wong-Bajandi's Mixed Feeding Journey

Dear Peanut,

Let me explain to you my beef with exclusively breastfeeding hardcores.

When you left NICU, we’ve seen the big changes almost immediately. The physiological jaundice is gone. You don’t look like turmeric chicken anymore. Your skin now has a healthy tocino glow. You also seemed less irritated. You appeared well-fed and well-rested. A happy, healthy, baby boy!

We were advised na paarawan ka at 6am for the next few days and as much as we can. We also got your feeding schedule from NICU and was taught how to dropper feed you. So that’s what we did when we got home.

Since you couldn’t get my milk out yet, we just continued your formula feeding schedule. My breasts became so engorged that we had to call Ate Zsa Zsa to the rescue. She’s one of the midwives who attended to us at TMC. Apart from lactation massages, she also teaches TMC patients how to bathe a newborn.

She came to our home and worked on my super engorged jugs while expressing milk. Miracle of all miracles! She was able to express 40ml of breastmilk in that one session alone. Actually, it was science, not a miracle, but it felt like the latter because it was the first time I’ve seen my jugs let out colostrum by the ml.

For one whole hour, she milked me like the postpartum cow that I was while your father attended to your needs (changing your diapers, soothing your cries, and dropper-feeding the milk that we just expressed).

After Ate Zsa Zsa left, I was able to hand express 30ml more!

Ate Zsa Zsa kept on saying that I have very high pain tolerance because normally, most women would be crying right then and there because of the painful sensation. Hand expressing was painful but even if I gave birth to you through painless CS, I experienced labor pain, and I tapped out and asked for an epidural at 6cm (or was it 5cm?)

In the past weeks, we also tried nearly all of the tricks and tips on how to increase milk supply. Nalulunod na ako sa sabaw at napupurga na ako sa malunggay. I also ordered those expensive (but worth it) lactation treats and take malunggay capsule twice a day. I do hand expressions, direct latching (but still getting the same results), and boob massages.

Lactation cookies and treats from Mommy Treats!

Finally, when your UncleP saw how you latch on, he said there are babies na hindi marunong mag-latch ng tama sa umpisa. But he advised to just continue and those short latching and sucking still help. Until finally, we bought that Pigeon Nipple Shield and it totally changed the game!

Pigeon Nipple Shield - expensive but worth it!

I told you that I won’t do product reviews but when I do find a product that I really, really like, I’ll tell you about it. A nipple shield is like an artificial nipple you place on your natural nipple to create that “protruded” shape babies can latch onto properly.

It’s like a condom for your nipple and it works like magic! On the first try, you were able to direct latch and breastfeed on my left breast for 15 whole minutes! Again, exclusively breastfeeding hardcores would probably say, “Artificial nipple pa din yan. You should do direct latching only because…blah blah blah blah…” or “Naku, dapat hindi mo ginawa yan, mako-confuse yung baby mo sa nipples…mali yan...blah blah blah…”

Again, back off.

It probably makes you wonder bakit ako galit na galit sa mga hardcores, here’s why:

The pressure to exclusively breastfeed (as in direct latch, no bottle feeding breastmilk) has become so EXTRA that many people now think feeding your baby formula milk is synonymous with giving poison.

I mean, I’ve joined several mommy groups and breastfeeding groups on Facebook. I’ve read the comments and questions and I couldn’t help but do an eye roll every time I see a comment from those who keep pushing direct latching and exclusive breastfeeding as if they’ve seen the concerned person’s issues firsthand.

Take this for instance: One of the “counselors” I talked to from an exclusive breastfeeding group kept on telling me that direct latching your baby is the only sure way to increase your milk supply. She's right but what if you're having problems with direct latching in the first place at hindi ka naman nagkukulang?

Sure, she shared a lot of tips and comforting words but when I told her the story about how we supplemented with milk formula when we were at NICU, she made me feel like I did a great injustice to my baby that she even asked for the name of the hospital and the pediatrician who advised it. I was like, "Wow, do you have the power to fire the doctor or shut down the hospital? Kung makatanong ka, wagas eh."

I’m like, why? Crime na ba ngayon ang magbigay ng formula milk? Come on, formula milk is a suitable option if breast milk is not available.

Here’s another example. A lactation consultant sent me an SMS asking if I am exclusively breastfeeding. She also asked how many feedings I give, for how long the baby breastfeeds, how many wet diapers, etc.

I wasn’t exclusively breastfeeding and I double guessed if I should even reply. But I did, and I explained all about the need to supplement with formula at the hospital. I gave a very detailed response. And you know what? The response I got was, “Okay ma’am. Thank you, God bless.”

Nagdilim yung panginin ko, I swear!

I was actually expecting to be told to still try direct latching and breastfeeding. That would have been a warm response. The best response would be an encouraging reminder that it’s okay to supplement with formula if breast milk isn’t available at the moment and while I’m still building up my supply.

The best response would have been a reminder that I’m doing the best I can as a first-time mother and that I shouldn’t feel guilty at all. The best response would have been an invitation to call them in case I need to talk to a lactation therapist (even if I need to pay a professional fee) and that their doors are open for me and my baby anytime.

But no…

That response felt like a door slam to my face. Somehow, whenever I see messages ending with the proverbial “God bless”, it reads like “Okay, end of conversation, you don’t need to reply anymore. Bye."

It was very disappointing. I felt like when they find out that mothers don’t exclusively breastfeed, they kick them aside by not offering comforting words that we’re doing the best we can, as they surely would to those who exclusive breastfeed.

And that practice, that pressure has made breastfeeding in general even more difficult and not fun at all for those who are trying their best despite the real issues they don’t post in those breastfeeding posters and videos.

In my first book, Before I Do, I wrote about how annoying it has become that even your neighbor’s relative can just nonchalantly ask why you’re still single or when you’re getting married (if you are in a relationship). And when you’re married, your neighbor’s relative can also nonchalantly ask why you still don’t have kids.

I mean, these used to be private questions that only people you know can ask you. Today, kahit yung nagtitinda ng taho sa kabilang kanto puwede ka tanungin kung bakit ka pa rin single. And it’s not because they always mean well.

Take exclusive breastfeeding for instance. What if the person you asked has a baby with serious latch-on issues (like a physical defect or something?)What if the person you asked previously had a breast removal surgery because of cancer? What if the person you asked has a disease that prevents her from breastfeeding? What if you continuously ask women why they don’t breastfeed and you insist that they do without even knowing if they have serious problems that no counseling can solve?

And it sucks that the focus on exclusive breastfeeding have made women feel that they’re committing a crime whenever they buy formula milk at the stores. You’d see the stares, you’d somehow feel the whispers, and you’d feel the judgment. And maybe that’s why many mothers, especially first-time moms, don’t post on social media that they’re supplementing their breast milk with formula milk if they need to “top up.”

Mothers shouldn't be made to feel they're committing a crime or an injustice if they give their babies formula milk.

For me, at least, it's similar to choosing between using disposable diapers and cloth diapers. Cloth diapers are expensive and they require more effort to use. Disposable diapers are convenient and cheap but in the long run, the expenses add up. They say babies who use cloth diapers are less likely to have diaper rash. Both are perfectly viable options.

Why don't you get some cloth diapers as an investment (if you have the budget and time for them and if you want to) but still use disposable diapers when you want/need to?

Yeah, I know that there is absolutely no substitute for breastmilk. But don't judge women who formula feed all too easily or make them feel like they're committing a feeding crime.

I read this article at a time when I needed it most. One of the captions read, “My dear fellow queens, breastfeeding is good for our babies but it is not the be-all and end-all of motherhood. Please, please know that our mental health is as important as our babies' physical well-being.”

The night before I snapped and cried again because you wouldn’t latch onto me and I felt that my milk supply would dry out before we could even begin to enjoy the joys of feeding. That night, we decided to finally use the feeding bottles NinangE sent us from the U.S. and stop dropper-feeding you. Right then and there, you father ordered the breast pump and nipple shield we needed.

Milk drunk. We just want you to know that we're giving you the "best" of both breasts, este world.

These past few days, we have both started to enjoy the perks of feeding. I pump breast milk for you and we feed it to you using a bottle. We also supplement with formula milk while I’m still working on building my supply. The goal is not to give you just breast milk. The goal is to continue giving you breast milk for as long as I can while topping up with formula milk until we no longer need the latter.

I have become a strong advocate for mixed feeding, a style, I think, that many mothers are either ashamed to admit or don’t know at all. I think the pressure to breastfeed has led many mothers, especially first-time ones, to believe that if they can’t produce the milk their baby needs on Day 1, they can’t do anything about it anymore and that they should start feeding formula milk, and when they do, they are total failures.

This is just utterly wrong. Don’t we all want the best for our babies? I think there’s an urgent need for stronger support for women who formula feed but still want to give breastmilk for as long as they can.

If there are mixed breastfeeding groups, let's talk, sagot ko na ang printing ng brochures ninyo.

XOXO,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

I heard about the Unang Yakap program from my “mommy friends.” Your UncleP also told me about it and as a writer, I’ve researched about it to great extent.

We’re glad to know that the hospital we chose is a strong advocate of the Unang Yakap program and breastfeeding. It’s good to know that we would give birth in a “baby-friendly” hospital.

What’s great about The Medical City is that they offer these free prenatal and parenting seminars for both their patients and outsiders. One of the seminars we attended included a hospital tour of the pre-labor room, labor room, delivery room, ward, and private rooms (and even the NICU). So we were able to—somehow—simulate what we would do when labor pain finally starts. A dry run of some sort. Looking back, that tour really helped!

And just as they promised in the seminars, you were immediately brought to my chest and taught how to direct latch in the delivery room while the doctors stitched me up. But you didn’t want to latch on even after several tries. You kept on crying and I thought that maybe the traumatic birth experience (you ate some of your poop while still inside my tummy, thus the stat CS) stressed you out. Maybe you just needed some time to relax.

When you were finally roomed-in with me, we immediately started to try direct latching so we can exclusively breastfeed. Nurses, doctors, and lactation consultants, even the midwives, continuously try to teach me how to properly position you so you can latch on properly. Sometimes, it worked. Most of the time, it didn’t. You would latch on for a while, suck—maybe 4 to 5 sucks per latch—, unlatch, and then cry. And we would start over again.

I wasn’t worried because we already know that it’s okay not to feed you for quite some time immediately following birth—because you still have some “baon” nutrients that you received from me before they cut your umbilical cord.

The prenatal seminars also educated us about the size of your tummy on Day 1 (the size of a calamansi fruit) so we weren’t worried that I couldn’t provide colostrum by the ounce. Of course, your grandparents were worried that you were getting hungry as hell.

We kept trying the direct latching and exclusive breastfeeding combo but the same thing happens. I try hand expression and I can see yellowish milk coming out. You just couldn’t latch on properly because my nipples are too small (not inverted, not flat, but they’re small).

If my areolas are the size of China (as your father wrote), I could probably describe my nipples as the Taal Volcano in Tagaytay because they’re not protruded enough that you can latch on effectively.

Taal Volcano in Tagaytay

I distinctly remember our third night at the hospital. We were trying to breastfeed you every 2-3 hours but you seemed so irritated already. Perhaps because since you couldn’t latch on properly, you also couldn’t get the colostrum out.

That was also the night that we were trying to calm you down so you would get the maximum exposure under the phototherapy equipment. I remember holding your tiny, yellowish face with one hand (football hold) and you said “ahh!” In my head, I keep on replaying that moment. I don’t know why but I swear I can still hear you utter “ahh!” sometimes as if someone nudged you awake. I remember how tiny you were on Day 3, like Turmeric Chicken, thigh part.

The Medela Pump Drama

When we finally agreed to take you to NICU for phototherapy, they told me I can breastfeed every 2-3 hours. But I wasn’t confident that I could provide you 20 ml of breast milk per feeding. I kept telling everyone that my nipples weren’t protruded enough that you couldn’t latch on properly but all they said was that I keep trying the direct latch approach.

Since they ran out of donor breastmilk that week (because umulan nga ng premature babies, as one of the midwives said) and we knew that getting breastmilk from friends or FB groups could take a while, we agreed to give you formula milk as a supplement. They had us sign a consent form as part of a hospital protocol.

Your father and I grew up on formula milk—the best money can buy at that time. And we turned out okay (walang kokontra, hahahaha) and we’re healthy. So we really have no qualms about giving you formula milk. After all, science bitches! Pun intended, you’ll know what I mean if you watch Breaking Bad.


We told ourselves, so what? We can still try to breastfeed you when we get home. But breastfeeding hardcore groups would rally and say, “Oh no, you ruined your chances of exclusively breastfeeding!” They would say “Oh no, nipple confusion na yan for sure kasi nagbote ka na!”

BACK OFF!

If formula milk is the best option for my child at a specific time, no poster, no video, no counseling would stop me from giving my baby what he needs.

NICU has breast pumps available so I figured, I might as try the machine so I can test one before we buy. Since we psyched ourselves that we're doing direct latching, we didn’t buy any pump prior to giving birth.

When I first visited NICU, I tried to do direct latching but you caused a ruckus at the breastfeeding room that I felt the 3 women there, who were silently breastfeeding, were judging me or feeling sorry for me because of your dynamite wails. It came to a point that I cried because you keep refusing my gigantic breasts.

Anak, ang laki ng dede ng nanay mo. Like three times the size of your tiny, tiny head. Each jug is filled with colostrum and you couldn’t get it out. Sino ba naman ang hindi maiiyak? Liquid gold kaya yun!

When I told the nurse that I’ll just try to pump milk instead, she wheeled you back to the phototherapy room and I swear, you gave me the evilest side eye I’ve ever seen as you exited the room. It felt to me like you were saying, “How could you leave me alone at this fancy tanning salon, mother???”

So there I was, inside the breastfeeding room at NICU, strapped to a Medela automatic breast pump. The three women were all holding their babies, skin to skin, and I was holding a yellow Medela breast pump bottle crying silently.

I felt so guilty and so sorry and so disappointed in myself because I couldn’t provide breast milk for you. After 1 hour of automated pumping, I could only get a few drops of colostrum out. The NICU nurse said it was okay and they would feed it to you. Liquid gold, as they say.

One of the OB-GYN speakers at the prenatal seminars attended warned us about this possible scenario. He said we should refrain from asking ourselves, “Anong klase akong ina?!” when we encounter such situations.

But that was exactly what I kept asking myself as I held the Medela breast pump bottle close to my jugs and cried silently while the three women nursed their premature babies, just like in those breast is best posters you see around the malls, hospitals, and almost everywhere!

Before I left the NICU breastfeeding room, I found out that they were all having issues, except for one. One told me her premature daughter won’t latch on and she had been there for 2 hours already! Another, mother of twins, told me she asked for donor’s milk because she couldn’t provide for both and that one of the NICU nurses feed her baby with a dropper. The one (without the issue) said comforting words that it will get better.

I realized that, wow, at the surface, I thought they were all having a wonderful time breastfeeding—complete with rainbows, butterflies, and unicorns. But in reality, they also have latching problems, breast milk supply issues, and more. So you see, everyone has an issue with breastfeeding.

Which leads me to another advocacy I would support with all my being.

To be continued…

XOXO,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

If you ask your father for a list of things (and people) that I dislike / hate / abhor, he would probably email you an Excel sheet—all nicely labeled, color-coded, and with very detailed information.

And that Excel sheet would probably have many versions (v1, v2, v3, etc.) because the list keeps on getting updated.

Before we gave birth to you, your Lola Mommy advised me to let go of some of the things (and people) that weigh me down. Apart from the fact that keeping a mental hate list is not really conducive to pregnancy, I should start with a “clean slate” and clear my plate of all negative things (and people).

And that’s what I did. And you know what, even if I didn’t destroy that list in my head, becoming a mother—especially a first-time mom—does a lot of good. I get so busy that I don’t have time to get irritated by small things (and small people) anymore.

But there’s one thing that recently got my ire and it’s this—how the strong focus on exclusive breastfeeding has become a new venue to bully mothers who don’t. Let me tell you how my incessant irritability started and a little backstory.

Hang in there, this one’s a bit long and bloody dramatic.

Pre-Peanut Days

Both your grandmothers did not breastfeed but we all know the many benefits of mother’s milk for babies. Who wouldn’t? I mean, you’d see the list EVERYWHERE.

There are so many groups nowadays that offer support for exclusively breastfeeding mothers and they’re all doing great jobs. I salute them, seriously.

What a time to be alive because back then (like in the 1980s or earlier), if you breastfeed your baby, it means you don’t have money to buy formula milk. Back then, people have this [wrong] notion that parents who breastfeed are poor that’s why they do it (because, well, breasts are just there and they’re free).

That all changed when later studies proved (and continuously) prove the physical, emotional, mental, and financial benefits of exclusive breastfeeding.

And we honestly believe in exclusive breastfeeding and direct latching. That’s why we didn’t buy a breast pump or bottles because we wanted (and we still want to) take advantage of my work-from-anywhere setup. Since I can work anywhere as long as I have my laptop and Wi-Fi connection, when you cry, I can simply pop a boob and you can feed anytime.

We attended as many prenatal seminars that we can. Hoarded as many freebies as we can (free diapers are the shiznit!). And basically psyched ourselves that we’ll exclusively breastfeed you for as long as we can and save big money in the long run.

But just like how our birth plan went the opposite direction, our feeding plan didn’t go as planned.

To be continued…

XOXO,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).

Dear Peanut,

Today, you are officially #3WeeksOld. Earlier today, we stayed at your Lola Mommy and Lolo Daddy’s home because of the 12-hour full electrical shutdown at the condo. Today, [part of] your umbilical cord finally fell off. YASS! Puwede ka na namin i-bidet kapag naliligo.

We also went to SM Marikina because of the 1-day Thanksgiving Sale and the SMAC member’s sale at Ace Hardware. Your grandparents shopped like crazy (mostly for raffle prizes this coming holiday) and we also bought some items for the condo. It was your first time at an SM Mall. Yes, for a Filipino kid, that’s a first worth mentioning, haha.

Anyway, the past 3 weeks flew by in a blur of diaper changes, breastfeeding emotional breakdowns (that’s for another entry), your bath time wails, and per-3-hour feeding schedules.

In a span of 21 days, your father and I have turned from bat-shit scared, walang-mga-alam, first-time parents to chill, kaya-natin-ito, 21-days-in parents. We’ve seen and gone through a lot of changes in the past 21 days, both physical and emotional and we have a lot of stories to tell you, anak. But for this post, I want to share with you how our supposedly 3-day stay at the hospital became a 5-day staycation.

The Simpson Kid

On Day 3, we noticed that your skin has become yellowish. The nurses who check on us noticed it too and already gave a heads up to the head nurse so she can inform your pediatrician #2.

Backstory: Your original (pediatrician #1) Dra.CTP was out of the country when you were born on Nov. 2. So Dra.CTP asked her reliever Dra.CL (pediatrician #2) to step in on her behalf.

Dra.CL checked your condition and explained to us all about physiological (normal) jaundice. I won’t explain the entire thing on this post, so for those following #DearPeanut blog, you can read about physiological (normal) jaundice here.

Anyway, the point here was that it’s normal for newborns to experience this. In an ideal scenario, kailangan lang paarawan yung mga sanggol. But given the November Rain (pun intended and a tribute to Guns N' Roses’ iconic song, it was a rainy first week of November), Dra.CL was reluctant to give the discharge order.

We had two options. First, we can send you to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) so you can get the treatment for physiological jaundice, which was phototherapy. The better option was to have the phototherapy machine placed inside our private room so we don’t have to be away from you and we can breastfeed. If we took option 1, we can do the breastfeeding every 2 hours at NICU. We took option 2.

So through the night, we tried to breastfeed (but we were already having issues, more on this later) and place you under the phototherapy machine. You had to be naked (except for the diaper, booties, and mittens) so you can maximize the light exposure. You also had to wear this piece of carbon paper inside your diaper to protect Buckbeak Jr. Why we named your penis after a Harry Potter character is an inside joke I can’t share here, hehe.

They also provided us this shabby, makeshift, carbon paper eye cover to protect your eyes. We both hated this eye cover with our entire being. You kept on crying and tugging at it and it frustrated us both.

Makeshift tanning salon inside our private room.

And since you won’t stay or sleep in your hospital trolley/carrier unless we swaddle you, we had to wait until you’re asleep to put on the stupid eye cover (I hated it because it made you uncomfortable, but I knew you needed it -- all I’m saying is that perhaps the hospital could provide a better one) and turn on the phototherapy machine.



You were so fidgety and would only calm down if you’re sleeping on top of a pillow that was placed on top of my thighs. Your father and I took rounds that night because we can’t sleep at the same time. You would wake for feedings and we had to make sure you were getting as much light exposure as possible so your bilirubin levels would go down.

It didn’t help.

The following morning, we were advised to send you to NICU so you can get phototherapy treatment and close observation. Your skin was more yellowish than before. They had a grade/level system for that and you were already at level 3.

While we didn’t want you away from us, we also knew that staying at NICU would mean you’d get the treatment you need in a more efficient manner, faster treatment too, so we could all go home.

The doctors explained to us that I can visit NICU anytime to breastfeed you but during that time, we already had some issues. Unfortunately, the hospital didn’t have enough stock breastmilk (BM) that time because “umulan ng premature babies” (one of the midwives said) during the last week of October.

They told us we could ask for BM donations from friends and Breastfeeding Groups but we didn’t know any. So we agreed to give you formula milk (FM) while you stayed at NICU. We are well aware of the benefits and advantages of breastfeeding but if you're already hungry and getting irritable, we don't have any qualms about giving you what you need at a specific time. I’ll explain the drama I that took place in the breastfeeding room in another entry.

Of course, we didn’t want to stay longer at the hospital. In fact, when the resident OB-GYN Dra.IG checked in with us and informed Dra.JMF that we were still at the hospital, Dra.JMF was surprised because she already gave the discharge order to us on Day 3.

Mothers can visit NICU anytime so I made sure to check in on you before sleeping. The resident pediatrician there Dra.SEE told me that at first, you were quite irritable—crying all the time and hard to calm down. But after a few feedings of FM, you calmed down, therefore, the nurses there were able to feed you better.

I felt really, really guilty because I thought that our breastfeeding issues almost led to you becoming dehydrated. The doctors and nurses at NICU reassured me over and over that you didn’t become dehydrated but you were quite hungry when you first came in.

It was only your father and me who stayed in our private room on the 4th night. We were so exhausted due to lack of sleep for 4 days in a row. So that night, we grabbed the rare chance to sleep for a full 8 hours despite the regular checkups from the nurses and resident doctors during their rounds.

I still felt guilty and told your father all about my worries (waterworks included) and he told me that sending you to NICU was the best option because you’re getting round-the-clock observation so your bilirubin would go down fast and we can all go home.

He also told me what all the doctors already said—that physiological jaundice is normal and that phototherapy is a fancy way of saying you’re getting a tan at a fancy tanning salon inside the hospital. That’s one of the best things about your father—he knows how to make me laugh. But I told him to refrain from making jokes for now because whenever I sneeze, cough, or laugh, I would feel a sharp pain in my C-section wound.

On Day 4, Dra.CTP visited us and she reassured me that physiological (normal) jaundice in newborns is well, normal, and very common. She also checked you and told us that your complexion already looked good and we might not need another test to check your bilirubin levels. We slept soundly that night and were thankful for a full 8 hours of sleep before we face the happy chaos (because everyone is so excited for us to get home) again.

The next morning, Day 5, we received a call from NICU that Dra.CL already gave a discharge order and we can all go home. YEY! True enough, kulay tocino ka na. Hindi ka na kulay turmeric chicken!

Kulay turmeric chicken.

Kulay tocino! Ready to go home! Bad lighting, nasa waiting area kami ng basement parking.

After settling the bill and packing up our things, your father and I went to the hospital chapel to pray and thank God for all the wonderful things that have happened in the past 5 days at the hospital. And of course, for the wonderful new addition to our family.

Before we left the hospital, we also made an official announcement about you. :) Here's what we wrote:

Heeeeeere's Johnny!

Thank you so much to everyone who helped us navigate the past few days. It was a rollercoaster ride of milestones!

Longer post on http://dearpeanut2017.blogspot.com/ soon! 😎😒😍

Finally, we can take you home, anak.

XOXO,


Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).