F@#$%# Thrush

After a course of antibiotics to kill off the hideous mastitis, I found myself wondering if I had a yeast infection in my nipples, better known as thrush or "candida."  Yay me.

Here's the skinny on thrush.  It's evil.  It's the dumbest ailment known to nipples.  I can't get over how much information is out there on the Internet, and how useless it all is.  Symptoms of thrush are so vague and all over the map there's no way of determining if you or your baby have it, unless you have the classic "white spots," which is also an ambiguous descriptor because there are NO pictures of nipples with thrush on the internet that are helpful.

Every site I visited (foolishly, I know) had the same descriptions, with the disclaimer, "May or may not" before each one.

Your nipples may or may not show signs of redness.
Your baby may or may not have white patches on the inside of his mouth.
Your breasts may or may not have shooting pain.
Your baby's saliva may or may not be shiny.
Your nipples could be red, pink, purple or white.

What good is that?!  "May or may not" does not help me figure out what to do with this insipid yeast.  I can't believe what a pain in the ass it has been trying to get rid of it...that is, IF I ACTUALLY HAVE IT.

The baby has no symptoms, but one of the symptoms of thrush is that the baby could have no symptoms.  Did you get that?  Confusing, ain't it?

The only symptom I had was shooting pain in my nipple.  And when I say "shooting" I really mean it felt like someone was stabbing me with a knife over and over again.  It was as if the milk had ground glass in it.  This happened maybe 15 minutes after feeding the baby.

When I looked up "shooting pain," a hundred sites came up, all citing the dreaded THRUSH.  I could not get over how hysterical people were about this thing.  It was worse than mastitis, worse than plugged ducts...it was the invisible enemy, and one that multiplied at an exponential rate.  After reading several dozen pages, I realized one thing...I was screwed.

I started cleaning everything with bleach (not vinegar.)  I did six loads of laundry, with bleach.  I used several remedies, including grapefruit seed extract (liquid) and extra virgin coconut oil (solid like butter) on my nipples (and the gse in his mouth.)  I called the advice nurse several times, the lactation specialists, my obgyn's office, and my friends who had experienced this hell before.  The doctors wouldn't see me, nor would the specialists.  They all said the same thing.  There is no definitive diagnosis for thrush.  They could only go by my description, because all nipples look somewhat different.  None are "obviously" thrush nipples.  What?!

Everyone was saying something different, yet one thing remained:  Do NOT reinfect yourself.  Treat yourself and the baby at the same time.  Strangely, the only person who did not agree with this assessment was the baby's pediatrician, who took one look in the baby's mouth, shrugged and said, "He doesn't have thrush."  I had to strong arm a prescription for Nystatin out of him."

Eventually, I got in to see a nurse practitioner.  She took one look at my nipples and said, "They're puffy and meaty."  Translation: You have thrush.  She sent in a prescription for Diflucan and sent me on my way.

The problem with thrush is that if you have vague symptoms that kinda sorta match the usual symptoms, there is no answer to the question, "Do I have it?"  It's a horrible guessing game that always ends the same way.  You treat it anyway, because your fear of the thing makes you paranoid.

This game of "thrush" or "not thrush" messed with my head in a terrible way.  It stressed me out, gave me bouts of hysteria at any given moment, and really exhausted my patience.  If you ever get it, I wish you luck and recommend you go to your happy place immediately.  Otherwise, every tinge, tickle, or funny feeling you get in your breast will make you break into a cold sweat.

The sites I found helpful were few and far between, but for what it's worth, here they are:

Jay Gordon - Information on Thrush and how to treat it with Grapefruit Seed Extract

How long does Candida live on surfaces?

Babycare Advice - Very detailed and informative

Pinstripes and Polkadots - How to disinfect laundry, and other interesting information on bleach vs. vinegar

Mastitis...

AGAIN.  This is my third round with mastitis, and I can safely say that I am an expert in all things breast infected.  Not exactly the silver lining I was looking for during my stint with breast feeding.

This time it was a little different, however.  I felt the pain and knew right away...mastitis.  It had to be.  There was no mistaking it.  It was an aching hot throb that made one side of my breast hurt so badly I winced when I fed the baby.  Then, the pain got worse, but very quickly.  Before the fever hit, I had already told my husband to call the advice nurse to get a prescription for antibiotics straight away.  By the next hour I had a fever steadily rising.  See?  Expert.

As soon as I started feeling the pains and the lumps of clogged milk in my breast, I started hand expressing and warm compresses to get the infection out.  I knew it was important to get all the milk out of the breast, so the infection wouldn't linger.  For over an hour I groped myself.  It was pretty (not) awesome reaching second base with myself.

The next day was my older son's birthday party, which I attended, feeling a little deathly.  Two Tylenol and a playground full of kids pumped me up for the next three hours, which seemed ok compared to the hideous time I had with this beastly ailment before.  But that night I collapsed in a heap with a 102 fever.  It had come back with a vengeance and I was sick as a dog.

The antibiotics finally kicked in, everything stopped looking like a big disgusting purple bruise, and I felt much better the next day.  I kicked mastitis' ass and lived to talk about it...again.

The next day I had shooting pains so powerfully painful I thought to myself, "Holy God, I'd rather go through LABOR again than feel this."  When I looked it up on the internet, the only thing that kept popping up repeatedly?  THRUSH.  Not possible.  NOT OK.

After calling the advice nurse, she confirmed it was thrush.  "Thrush happens when you take antibiotics for mastitis.  Antibiotics kill the good bacteria that keeps your yeast in check.  Now, there's an overgrowth of yeast."  Ok, now what?  "Apply Vagasil to your nipples."  What?  Gross.  I'll do it, but gross.

Somehow, applying a vaginal yeast infection cream to my nipples didn't seem right, so I called the lovely ladies at the lactation center who promptly said, "Thrush?  No.  Damaged nerve ending?  Yup!"  They suggested a cocktail of B-6 (for the damaged nerve) and probiotics (to take while taking antibiotics.)

To triple check the possibility I had thrush and had given it to the baby, we also saw the pediatrician, who checked the baby's mouth for the tell-tale white spots, looked at me like I was a loon, and said in his thick accent, "No thrush.  Usually, baby gives thrush to mama.  Not mama give thrush to baby.  No thrush." And then I was sent on my way with a prescription for Nystatin (just in case thrush popped up in the next day or two) and a pat on the head.

So what have we learned?  Don't look on the internet.  The internet is not a doctor.  The internet will drive you mad with unnecessary worry.  Also, NO GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCHING.  It's for your own good.

Also, when websites tell you that thrush can be stealthy and that the symptoms can be hidden?  Not true, sayeth the wise and sage lactation specialists I talked to.  And the pediatrician confirmed it.  There are always white spots in the baby's mouth, and always raw hamburger-looking nipples. Not comforting, but there it is.

Breast Feeding the Second Time Around

NOT easy the second time around.  Everyone who told me it was...LIES, ALL LIES.  Or maybe it's me and my boobs.  With my first son, it was painful, but gradually so.  This time, it was excruciating right off the bat.  I was instructed to pump in lieu of feeding because of the incredible discomfort.  My first pump was an ounce of bright red blood.  Gross, to say the least.

I had blisters, abrasions, scabbed-over nipples...the first two weeks were brutal.  I decided not to mess around and go to my favorite lactation nurse again.  She took one look at the baby's mouth and suggested getting his frenulum snipped, just like his brother did.

Once we had the procedure done, (which was far more harrowing for me than for the baby) he seemed to latch on better, but still chomped me like he was in the Donner party.  My milk had come in full-force and was making him cough and gag from the let-down.  I was instructed by the nurse to pump six times a day, which made me tear up in anticipation of how much work it was going to be to get this baby some breast milk.

By "work" I mean pumping for 10 to 20 to 30 minutes, six times a day.  That's in addition to washing and sterilizing everything over and over again to avoid the dreaded MASTITIS.  Yes, I said MASTITIS.  And whenever I say it, or anyone else says it, I shiver with dread.  It's the breast feeding mom's equivalent of saying VOLDEMORT in Harry Potter books.

But here's the thing...pumping helps drain your milk, which helps prevent plugged ducts, which is a big reason women GET mastitis.  For that reason, and for the nourishment of my newborn, I will endlessly pump my poor, National Geographic looking boobs until I get this breast feeding down.

Losing the Pregnancy Weight...Again.

I was 172 before the birth.  12 days later and I'm at 147.  Today (4/10)  I weighed in at 145.  The all-you-can-stuff-in-your-face-before-passing-out breast feeding diet has begun!

Mastitis Hell

At 5:15 in the morning, I sit on the couch watching Tivo'd shows feeling not unlike a naughty kid trying to get away with something she shouldn't be doing. That's what motherhood feels like to me when I get a moment to myself...I'm getting away with something.

But the reason I'm up at 5:15 in the morning instead of sleeping while the baby slumbers is something far more sobering than daydreaming about being a naughty kid. I have mastitis.

For those who have never had mastitis, here's a medical description from Dr. Sears:

Mastitis means that the breast is inflamed, and there is swelling, redness, tenderness and pain. There may be an infection, so it is wise to consult your health-care provider to determine whether or not an antibiotic is necessary. A breast infection can become a breast abscess that requires surgical draining, but this can almost always be prevented by treating mastitis promptly.

Signs of mastitis include:

• Part or all of the breast is intensely painful, hot, tender, red, and swollen. Some mothers can pinpoint a definite area of inflammation, while at other times the entire breast is tender.

• You feel tired, run down, achy, have chills or think you have the flu. A breastfeeding mother who thinks she has the flu probably has mastitis. Mothers with mastitis will sometimes experience these flu-like symptoms, even before they get a fever or notice breast tenderness.

• You have chills or feel feverish, or your temperature is 101F or higher.These symptoms suggest that you have an infection.

• You are feeling progressively worse, your breasts are growing more tender, and your fever is becoming more pronounced. With simple engorgement, a plugged duct, or mastitis without infection, you gradually feel better instead of worse.

• Recent events have set you up for mastitis: cracked or bleeding nipples, stress or getting run down, missed feedings or longer intervals between feedings.

Now here's my personal description of mastitis:

First, you feel like you may shiver to death. It comes out of nowhere and hits you like a sledgehammer. Then, the fever comes on even faster. Mine rose from 101 to 103 in less than a few hours.

So you think, "Hm, I have the flu. This too shall pass." But NO. It shall NOT pass. It shall continue to get worse until you are praying for death. In fact, you FEEL like death. One of your breasts suddenly starts getting pink in a spot, then it gets warm. Perhaps it starts to itch. One way or another, your breast is in pain. You notice it most when you try to breast feeding and your baby's tongue feels like it has spikes on it. It literally brought tears to my eyes.

Then you call the advice nurse or the lactation specialist. She gets you connected with your doctor who prescribes you some antibiotics that will supposedly kill whatever has obviously created evil in your milk ducts. While you are waiting for your medication to work you pump 10-12 times a day or your breastfeed constantly to drain your breast of the infection. Sounds gross to be feeding your baby infected boob milk? The baby is the one who probably gave you the infection, so he/she won't mind.

Now the antibiotics have been in your system for a little while and suddenly you start to feel queasy. You pick up the instructions for the meds and see the first symptoms on the sheet...nausea and vomiting. Then, you vomit.

You can't eat because you feel sick to your stomach 24/7. Then, you can eat, but you throw it up. Meanwhile, you're still trying to get rid of the fever and pain you've had for two days with prescription Motrin, which you can't take on an empty stomach. But wait, you can't take antibiotics unless you're on an empty stomach. You're screwed.

So here I sit at 5:15 in the morning, starving, but on antibiotics. I pray the meds will get rid of this crap because I can't seem to get over the feeling that I may actually be dying of mastitis. I may be the first person ever on the planet to die from this stupid infection. I'll be in all the medical journals for sure.

It's all in the name of breast feeding my baby. Am I being punished for having inverted nipples? Or maybe it's because I've been sneaking a supplement of formula in at night when I'm too tired to nurse...either way, someone up there hates my guts...and my boob.

Breast Feeding

We stayed in the hospital for five days and then I was released on August 31st to fend for myself. The hospital was a comfortable place for me, and I actually dreaded leaving. The nurses, lactation specialist, doctors, pediatricians, OBGYNs...they were all available to me at the push of a button. At home, however, there was no button. It was just me, my husband and the baby.

The first day back, we were doing well. Baby slept through the night, probably exhausted by the long journey he had made into the world. I was in quite a bit of pain, and popping the prescription motrin and stool softeners like candy.

The second day back was like a pitcher of ice water thrown into my face. The baby did well during the day, but as soon as it became late...around midnight...he started screaming. And he simply would not stop. Husband tried to let me sleep and heal, since I was still suffering from the after-effects of pushing a human out of my uterus. But around 2 a.m., he came down to wake me.

He apologized, but said I would have to breast feed the baby.

Breast feeding had become this sort of albatross on my back. My milk had not come in as of day six. The nurses and doctors and lactation specialist at the hospital had all said not to worry...that the colostrum would be plenty for him to eat until my milk came in. But apparently, after five days, the baby was tired of the colostrum and was ready for a real meal.

I kept saying to the nurses and doctors, "He seems to be really hungry."

They kept reiterating the importance of NOT using formula. Breast is best.

"Not even to supplement? I want to breast feed, but I have no milk. Can't I just supplement with formula until it does come in?"

The answer was always, "Don't worry about it. He isn't starving."

Well, on the second day home, we were down to our last nerve trying to calm this baby down. I cried when my husband asked me to breast feed him without my milk in yet. It was extremely painful to breast feed in the hospital. My nipples were sore and bleeding. In fact, the baby had such a good sucking technique, he had literally sucked skin out of the inside of my nipple, leaving a raw, bloody piece of skin hanging.

I said to the husband, "This is ridiculous. We HAVE to discuss formula! I can't breast feed him like this!!" I was in tears, husband was in tears. He finally decided to call the advice nurse while I tried to suckle the baby on my raw nipples.

The advice nurse said, "Sure, supplement two ounces of formula. There's no harm in that."

When my husband told me how uncontroversial the conversation had been, I wanted to go back to the hospital and slap everyone. How dare they not give me the option to formula supplement my baby? They refused to even discuss it.

My baby was hungry. That's the bottom line. I needed to feed him. Formula is not the devil.