Let’s Talk Breastfeeding

First of all, I just want to say thank you to everyone who warned me about this supposedly “natural” instinct we are supposed to have as women…not.

This was a slap in the face for me. Anthony was born 22 days early, so many people may think this has a lot to do with the fact that he had a VERY hard time latching. This was not only frustrating, exhausting and painful for me, but it was also the first time (and sure as hell not the last) that I understood what "mom guilt” was. I felt like I was failing at something that was supposed to be “natural” and “instinctual” for me. I remember sitting in the hospital bed praying he would magically latch so that his blood glucose (sugar) levels would go up. Because he was born before the 37-week mark (by one day, might I add), the nurses checked his blood glucose levels every 4 hours to make sure they weren’t dropping too low. Because he wasn’t latching well, his numbers weren’t staying in the satisfactory range.

Notice how they even have “I’m a Breastfed Boy” on his bassinet… they had pamphlets and flyers everywhere.

To add to my stress, the hospital I delivered at was a BIG advocate of breastfeeding and they pushed it tremendously on the new moms. They came into my hospital room every hour to make sure that I was attempting to latch him. More often than not, I was still attempting to get him latched from the previous pop-in. I would try for hours at a time; he would latch, then de-latch almost instantly. Nurse after nurse would come in and try to teach me a different way to hold him or a new method. I appreciated my nurses SO much for taking the time out of their busy schedules to come in and truly help me. But watching the clock, knowing that the next blood glucose reading was coming up, had me on edge the entire time. They kept warning me that if it continued to read low, they would want to take him to the NICU to start an IV for glucose. I even tried to hand-express the colostrum (note: this is the first form of milk produced by the mom’s mammary glands right after delivery of your baby—you don’t actually make milk for a couple of days, sometimes even up to a week, after delivery). I was hand-expressing so hard in the hopes that I could syringe-feed him what came out that I was actually expressing blood-tinged colostrum and forming blisters on my nipples. I was determined to keep him out of the NICU. Then it dawned on me: couldn’t I just give him formula to keep his glucose up? Why wasn’t anyone offering me this option? When I asked my nurse if I could please have some formula to feed my baby, she said, “We really don’t like to do that here…” — UMMM, WHAT?

Basically, this particular hospital would rather have taken my baby and stuck him with IVs before giving him formula to keep his sugar levels up. I looked at my husband and literally said, “What the actual fuck?” Long story short - they eventually brought me a WAIVER to sign which stated that I understood the hospital recommends breastfeeding and that I’m choosing to give my baby formula. I wasn’t giving up on breastfeeding altogether, I was just trying to supplement with formula while I still attempted to latch.

Thanks to this, Anthony stayed out of the NICU.

Despite what was “recommended”…

My husband and I syringe feeding Anthony formula to keep his sugars up.

Do I personally, as a medical provider, think that breastfeeding is important and beneficial? Yes. Do I think that every woman should have a choice to do what they feel is best for their baby? Yes. Do I think that a FED baby is BEST? ABSOLUTELY.

This was the moment that I realized being a mom was going to come with a lot of decisions. Decisions to stick to your gut and do what YOU feel is best for YOUR child. One size does NOT fit all in most scenarios. You are your child’s advocate. They have no voice yet; you are their voice. Use your voice, and speak clearly until you are heard.

[ end rant ]

I honestly don’t know why I felt so strongly about wanting to breastfeed. Maybe it’s my personality and the fact that I couldn’t do it that made me feel like I NEEDED to be able to. Maybe it was because I believed in the benefits of it and the bond that came with it. I wasn’t breastfed, I’m fine and my mom is my best friend. Most of my friends weren't breastfed because the year we were born, it was believed that formula was the way to go and that breastfeeding was BAD. My mom was actually told not to breastfeed because it was “unhealthy.” I couldn’t believe it when she told me that because nowadays this belief would be laughed at.

My sister and I at my first latch class. She came with me for moral support. My husband wanted to come really bad, but I told him that women probably wouldn’t feel very comfortable with a man in the room lol.

And so our breastfeeding journey continued. We were discharged from the hospital and I remained determined to get him to latch. I went to “latch classes” (yes that is a thing, and I was completely blown away by this when I found out) every Wednesday for the next month. I met other moms there who had trouble getting their LOs (little ones) to latch. It made me feel so much better knowing that I wasn’t alone. Again, people don’t really like to share their struggles with the world; they would rather paint a perfect picture. So, it was nice to hear other women’s stories. A lactation consultant actually led the class and worked with each woman and her LO individually. It was nice to have the support and also the education that was provided one-on-one. I felt less pressure knowing that I could get help for this. So I would leave the class and try what I learned at home. The times when I felt myself getting too frustrated, or I noticed that his diapers weren’t getting wet as often, I would still supplement with formula. He took the bottle so well, and as frustrating as it was to see him take to that nipple so easily when he wouldn’t take to my own, it made me happy to see him eat. I think it was around his actual due date (3 weeks later) that the latching just clicked. I didn’t even realize it was getting better and better with every feed until I put him to my boob one day and he FINALLY just knew what to do. The sense of relief that took over my body was a feeling I can still remember. WE DID IT. We learned something new together–and WOW, was it a freaking process.

This is where I sat, day in and day out until we finally got it!

I remember one night, about a week after Anthony was born; it was 4 in the morning and I was in the living room on our rocking chair, my husband was asleep. I had been trying to get him to latch for over an hour and he just wasn’t getting it. I started hysterically crying. Like, dry-heaving crying. I sat there in the dark, holding this tiny little human and I just cried. I was tired. I was frustrated. I was angry. I felt defeated. My crying woke my husband up and he came out, rubbed my back for a minute, took Anthony from me and grabbed a bottle of formula. He sat next to me as I continued to cry, and fed him. We didn’t say anything to one another, but the next day he came to me and said, "you don’t HAVE to breastfeed." I knew he was right, but again, the guilt ate away at me. By this point, I was making milk (lots of milk); my boobs were literally bursting, and I would have to pump after he finally latched because he wasn’t able to empty them. I had all this milk and I truly felt like I had to do this.

Looking back now, I feel silly for how much pressure I put on myself. But a part of me is glad I did because we both didn’t give up and I did end up breastfeeding for 9 months. I remember the day it ended. Anthony looked me dead in the eyes; I knew what was about to happen. I actually said, “don’t you dare do it,” but it was too late…his jaw locked, and he bit me. I thought my nipple was gone. I literally thought he swallowed it. This was a full-on fucking “I want this for dinner” bite. And that was the last time. I’m glad it ended that way... I needed it to end that way. Otherwise, I would’ve felt guilty yet again. And that concluded our breastfeeding journey.

At the end of the day, my message is this: feed your baby. That is what’s MOST important. A fed baby is a happy baby. If you are anything like me and beat yourself up over making this happen, I feel for you. If you’re currently dealing with this, know that you aren’t alone. Try your best to release some of the pressure from yourself, because more likely than not, it will help both you and your baby work together and make it happen. And if it doesn’t work out the way you planned, THAT’S OKAY TOO.

“Breastfeeding is literally a full-time job...my nipples are still waiting for a paycheck.”

— Mommy.realist