I had my
first child when I was almost 23. I had only seen one woman breastfeed a child,
the wife of a business associate of my husband. Needless to say we became fast
friends when I found out I was pregnant. I even ended up choosing her
obstetrician to have my child. Before meeting her I had never even given a
thought to how babies are fed. My mother had my half-sister when I was 9 and
she never mentioned anything about milk coming from her breast. Babies drank
formula from a bottle what other option was there?
While
pregnant with my daughter I wanted NOTHING more than to mimic what I saw my
friend do. She held her baby close, placed her nipple in the baby’s mouth, the
baby made such sweet little suckling sounds, she rubbed her tenderly, and they
shared such a sweet bond. She also pumped a gracious amount for her baby so she
could go back to work. I wouldn't have to do that so this would be so easy. I’d
latch her throughout the day and we would be the best of friends. I had no clue
how very wrong that was.
I had a speedy hospital birth. There was
meconium present when they broke my water so they took her immediately to
suction her. After a few minutes she was back in my arms wrapped tight like a
baby burrito. She was so small and sweet and so much red hair, my little NYE
baby. When the nurse helped latch her on, she clamped down like a
"champ". I was shocked by the pain but I was breastfeeding my baby
just like my friend. This was going to be easy. I was so very wrong. We left
the hospital went home alone and settled into life as a family of three. After
several sleepless nights, having no clue what we were doing, we went to her
first pediatrician checkup. I followed my friend’s advice and used her
breastfeeding friendly doctor. Baby is weighed, measured, looked over and then
bomb came. After comparing her birth information from the hospital and her
current stats she was "failure to thrive" on breast milk alone. We
would need to come back in a few days and if she wasn't gaining properly she
would need to be placed on formula. As a new young mother all I heard was you
are starving your child.
I called my
friend crying, she said go to the Breastfeeding Center at the hospital and
see an IBCLC for an evaluation. The
next day, this time alone, I went to see the "nursing
specialist" for a latch evaluation. She told me to undress the baby, weigh
her, feed her and weigh her again. She aggressively shoved my nipple in my
baby’s mouth and walked out. I cried, the baby cried; we just sat there
together crying for what seemed like forever. Another nurse came in, calmed us
down and helped me. After nursing my daughter on both sides, she was weighed
again. The IBCLC nurse said it didn't appear that the baby was getting enough
milk; that it was possible that my extremely large breasts were not allowing
the milk ducts to properly fill and I may not ever be a successful
breastfeeding mother. She sent me home with a box of formula. I was devastated.
I again called my friend and she let me borrow her pump. After 20 minutes of pumping
on each side, I got 2 ounces from my left breast and a few drops from my
right. My daughter cried all the time and I just knew I was starving her.
I gave her a bottle of formula and she never latched back on. I battled
postpartum depression and anxiety the following 12 months. I didn't leave my
house unless I was driven somewhere for fear I would follow through on the
crazy thoughts that lived in my head. We never talked about having more
children as I personally couldn't imagine going through all the emotional pain
of PPD & PPA again.
However 8
years later, after I had to take a 4 week medical break in birth control pills
to do hormonal testing, I found out I was pregnant. I was so nervous but also
so excited to try it all again. The pain of PPD and PPA had worn off and all I
could think about was holding a little baby at my breast again. I would succeed
at nursing my baby, which was my only goal. At my 12 week sonogram
appointment we learned our baby had stopped developing at almost 9 weeks and
that I would soon have a miscarriage. A few days later, in the quiet of the
night, I birthed our sweet angel baby at home.
We decided
as a family to try for one more baby. I got pregnant quickly and we chose to go
to a small local doctor and hospital since I was told I was a fast
birther. In the spring of 2012, after a membrane sweep and aggressive
labor, I gave birth to a white-blond mohawked baby boy. I placed him on my
breast immediately and let him find the nipple on his own, just like I had
studied. I still didn't have a great personal support system and was mostly
winging it but I did however have the internet and social media, so I would be
successful this time. The same issues started to arise. My sweet son wasn't
gaining enough weight and this time I was in immense pain. My nipples burned,
itched and throbbed. Maybe this was what success felt like. I really had no
clue. At his 2 week checkup the doctor wasn't impressed with his latch and he
had thrush. That was a new word; I took the cream, did what they said and kept
my head down determined. But I was hurting and bleeding and dreading each
nursing session. He nursed nonstop, cried all the time, we never slept and the
baby blues started to feel like PPD again and I was scared. I took to social
media and sought help. I looked up thrush and found natural ways to cure it. However,
nothing was working. At his two month appointment we both still had thrush and
he still wasn't where he needed to be growth wise. I told the doctor what the
nurse had said all those years ago and she agreed; maybe I just wasn’t meant to
breastfeed my children.
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