I have been a mom for almost
exactly 7 years. It is the single
greatest thing in my life. When my first
son, Troy, was born 7 years ago, I had planned on breastfeeding him for at
least a year. I had a very typical
hospital experience with breastfeeding.
Hospital pediatricians and nursery staff pushed formula, bottles, and
pacifiers since my “milk hadn’t come in yet” in the first 2 days. At the time, I had very little support, but I
made it through and had an abundant supply.
When my son was 3 months old, I suffered a windfall of stress that
caused my overabundance of milk to dry up almost completely. I was forced to supplement with formula while
I worked to get my supply back up, but my son began to reject the breast and I
could no longer nurse him. I had
little-to-no support regarding my breastfeeding, so there was no encouragement
to work to get my son back onto the breast.
I was able to maintain nighttime nursing, though I produced
nothing. It was a small comfort and I
continued until he was 9 months old. For
years I beat myself up over my perceived failure. I would cuddle my boy to my chest and imagine
him as a suckling infant. I would hold
him and weep.
Since then, I have learned that I
have been suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder for most of my
life. I had been misdiagnosed years
earlier with bipolar disorder, which never really matched up to my
symptoms. I also deal with clinical
depression that lurks in the background waiting to come out when it isn’t at
the forefront of my life. I began
medication 4 years ago paired with regular counseling with the greatest
counselor I could ever ask for and my life has been so much better.
Because my husband and I both lack
insurance benefits through employers, we had to purchase private insurance
almost immediately after our first son was born. At the time, private insurance in Texas
didn’t cover maternity in any available plans.
We thought our dreams of having another child were gone and we embraced
the probability that our first would be our only. What an “only” he would be – the joy of my
life.
When the A.C.A. was launched and all
insurance had to provide maternity coverage, we found our opportunity. Better insurance with maternity
coverage! We could have another child
and give our first the sibling he so desperately wanted. Almost immediately we were blessed with
another pregnancy and I stopped taking my medication. I told my husband that, this time, I wouldn’t
let anything get in my way of breastfeeding our child. He or she would be nursed by me exclusively
until a year old at which time I would definitely need to get back onto my
medication. By the time our son Alex was
born, pretty much everyone I knew was aware of my intent to breastfeed for the
first year.
This time around was so
different. I had much more support,
especially from my husband. I had the
same experience at the hospital with regards to breastfeeding, but my husband
decided to stand up and serve as my voice.
He demanded the nurses allow me to breastfeed and to help me get my milk
to come in (which actually shouldn’t even happen for the first several
days). My very gentle, unassuming
husband became the big bear he resembles in stature and made sure I was not
bullied this time. Before I was
discharged on the third day, my milk came in.
Boy did it come in! I was elated
to have another strong supply to give to my child.
I became active on Facebook in the
breastfeeding communities and learned about human milk donation. I felt this was a perfect way for me to give
back while I don’t have free time to donate.
I work and go to school from home, so I sat down and pumped between feedings. I would pump and nurse during meetings, while
testing software code, or while chatting with my team. After the first 2 months, I made it over that
tough hump that all of us nursing mothers are familiar with. The phase where you just feel like a
host. A really, really exhausted
host. But I made it! I made it and breastfeeding was so easy after
that. My Alex was growing to be big and
strong, just like his daddy. Everything
was going so well. I felt I was going to
meet my one year goal.
In all honesty, I think I knew that
I wasn’t going to make it. I had already
been off my medication for over a year and, although I survived without it
amazingly well, I was slipping. With so
much already on my plate, adding an infant to the mix proved to be incredibly
difficult. Even for me, a woman who is
known for taking on a billion things and actually doing them all well. I began to find myself stuck in my own head,
living in a fog. I was yelling at the people
in my home, whether they deserved it or not.
I lost my desire to yell at anyone when Troy was born, so this was more
than troubling. The patience I had
gained through Troy’s entrance into my world vanished. I couldn’t force myself to smile or be happy
anymore. I wanted to be so badly, but I
just couldn’t. That day, which was
Alex’s 7 month birthday, I broke down and admitted to my husband what I was
feeling and reluctantly accepted that I would have to stop breastfeeding. The decision was made harder by the fact that
I had a tubal ligation and will never nurse another child again. The next day, I saw my counselor and we began
a plan.
I am currently planning the weaning
and introducing some formula to my son.
I am taking supplements and attempting to pump as much as I can so that
I can at least keep some breastmilk in his diet for as long as possible. It was very difficult to admit my need, but I
know that a happy, healthy momma makes a happy, healthy baby (and husband and
child). I’m sure I’ll still cry. I’m sure I will still wish I could put Alex
to my breast while we sleep at night. I
may even experience phantom letdown and relish the feeling. I’ll look down at him snuggled at my breast
and flashback to the times when he was my little nursling.
This time was different and I
demand of myself to continue to make it different. This time I pledge to not beat myself up over
not meeting my goal. Instead, I am
changing my goal from “breastfeeding for a full year” to “breastfeeding as long
as I possibly can.” I have met my
goal. And thanks to Allison, I will have
gorgeous pictures through which to commemorate it.
I know that I am not alone. I know that there are so many of us mothers
who beat ourselves up for perceived failures.
We encourage one another and say, “You didn’t fail at anything. You’re amazing.” Yet, we rarely will admit the same to
ourselves. We need to ban together and
change that. We are worth our own
personal encouragement. We are mothers,
regardless of the obstacles we face, regardless of how we feed our
children. It is a rare mother who
doesn’t think of her children in every little thing she does. We are all great mothers and I know our
children will never say to us, “Mom, why did you stop breastfeeding me at 8
months old?” The way I am raising my
boys - with endless empathy, compassion, and love - that thought will never
come into their minds. They will know
that every breath I’ve taken is for them.
And they will know they are loved.
