I walked in, explained every movement I've made, everything that's passed through my lips in the past 2 weeks. I explained my heavily researched diet, my over saturation of herbal teas and water, everything. I waited for her to tell me there was something I wasn't doing right, something I could do better, but she never did. There was nothing that could be done. For some reason, probably a million little reasons that have built up throughout the time I spent in my mother's womb, infancy, childhood and into my adult life, that has lead me to the place I was now. That lead me to the hard truth that I would never be able to fully nourish my child, and probably any other children I may have.
I remember the day like it was yesterday, sitting naked from the waist up in a cold lactation consultants office. She was nice enough, but I could tell took pity on me as she said, "It looks to me that you have IGT." Those words struck me like a ton of bricks. Why? I had already known this all along, there was no way that it wasn't true. After all I was unable to breastfeed my first child. I have compared myself to the other women online with the same condition and it was like looking in a mirror. Though I just chalked it up to a lack of self care, water, and knowledge the first time around. I thought for sure the second time I would be able to. I talked for months about the fact that I was more prepared this time around, I would drink gallons of water and herbal teas, take supplements and pump between feedings. I would talk with my midwife and my doula on the proper way to latch, and gain support from a strong breastfeeding community around me. THAT was the difference, THAT was going to create success.
And I did. I did it all and then some. It didn't stop the fact that my 6 lb 2 oz newborn dropped 18% of her body weight in a couple of weeks, when the average baby would only lose about 10% and be on the track to gaining it back by then. It didn't stop the sleepless nights, the constant painful feedings, the worried looks from family who needed reassurance that I was producing enough when I didn't even know if I was.