I can remember sitting in a restaurant
with my husband, my mother, and my brother’s family. My sister-in-law needed to nurse her twin
babies. She picked up their baby girl,
who was just a few months old. Fumbling
with a muslin blanket, she attempted to nurse without exposing her breast to
everyone at the table. She didn’t seem
too concerned about others seeing her, and that sweet little girl was not
interested in hiding away under a blanket while she enjoyed her meal. I was pregnant at the time, and I felt the
blood rushing into my cheeks. “I just
saw her NIPPLE!“ I felt so embarrassed for everyone! I had watched her nurse plenty of times in
private. I had seen her struggle with creating a perfect latch, seen her
exposed and never thought twice. Now though, we were in public. Now, others
could see too. Looking back at this
moment I am embarrassed, but not for my sister-in-law—for my own thoughts in
those moments!
Our son,
Calvin, was born after 47 hours of labor. I had a fever during delivery; therefore,
he was born with a fever. His oxygen
levels were lower than they should have been. He lay on my chest for a brief moment while my
husband cut the cord, then the NICU nurses whisked him away from me. I remembered knowing how important the first
few hours were and I called out, “Where is my baby? I want skin-to-skin!” Eventually, someone
explained to me what was happening. I
desperately pleaded with them to put my baby back on my chest. “Skin-to-skin will help him! My body will regulate his temperature! You can give him oxygen while I hold him!” I was told I was wrong, and I could only hold
him for a minute before they had to take him to the NICU.
As I looked
at the beauty I had just delivered and held him close, I wanted nothing more than
to offer him my breast. I was told I could not. Too soon, and against my
wishes, the nurse took my little boy away. Before the doctor left the room, she came to me
rolling her eyes and said, “They told me you do not want us to give him
formula?” I told her I didn’t want to have him taste the formula, and that I
didn’t want him to have a bottle. “We
have to give him a feeding tube; he will not taste it.” I was so confused and
tired. I nodded my head and she
left. The nurses brought me a breast pump and taught
me how to use it. I was told by the NICU nurses to get as much colostrum as I
could and they would feed it to him in a syringe. When I asked if I could nurse, they told me
“no.” When I asked what was wrong with
my baby, I was told he was stable and they could see nothing wrong. Still, I was not allowed to take him to my
room.
The next
morning, with a new shift of nurses (and a new doctor), I asked if I could feed
my baby. The nurse looked astonished
that I had not already. She took him out
of his bed and placed him in my arms. My
sweet boy had cords tangled about him. They
were giving him fluids and formula, and tracking his perfect heartbeat. I listened to all of the beeping as the nurse
pulled a curtain around me and I pulled down my gown. My breast seemed twice the size of his tiny
head. I thought to myself, “How can his
wee mouth EVER latch on to THIS?”
The nurse
walked me through how to nurse and I thought of all of the times I had watched
my sister-in-law, and others I know, nursing.
I squeezed what little colostrum would come out from my nipple, and with
those images in my mind, I waited for that perfect moment to place him. I brought his mouth to my chest. He latched on and it was beautiful…Textbook
latching! Soon after, he went to sleep. In fact, for the next few days that’s all he
would do. The NICU was pumping him so
full of formula, he didn’t need me. Yet,
every time I came into the room I was bombarded with questions about how much I
was pumping, followed by disappointed looks and remarks about it not being
enough.
It seemed every
nurse told me something different. “Your
milk would come in if you use a shield when nursing.” “Your milk won’t come in if you use a
shield.” “Your breasts are too big.” “Your nipples are too short.” “Your nipples are perfect.” “You need to use the football hold.” “He should only be held lying across your
stomach.”
I was so
overwhelmed and distraught. Most of all,
I just wanted my baby to come home. After
three days, and many nurses, I asked what I had to do to get my baby home. “If you would JUST let him have a bottle, we
could take the feeding tube out and take him off of the fluids. Then, they
would probably let him go home.” I was
not producing enough milk for their standards. Beat down and defeated, I agreed. By that night, he was disconnected from all
cords and I was told they would probably let him go home the next day.
The day we
brought him home from the hospital my milk came in. It came in and it kept coming. My breasts were
engorged, sore, and milk was going everywhere. I would try to feed him and milk would spray
him in his face. I started pumping to
help with the pain, but then I started feeling sick. My temperature skyrocketed and I began to
display symptoms of stomach flu.
Initially, we thought I had mastitis, but I pumped the milk out and had
no lumps or soreness left in my breasts. Around midnight, my mother carried me to the
doctor (pump parts in tow) and my husband was left alone with our son on his
first night home.
I spent that
first night in the emergency room. I
felt embarrassed every time I declined testing or medication that I felt would
interfere with nursing. I had to explain
to MULTIPLE nurses that it was in fact, okay to send my breastmilk for my son
to drink, even though I was sick. After
moving me out of the ER, they found a room for me on the oncology floor of all
places. I refused to stay there in a
shared room where Calvin could not be with me. I continued to pump and send home milk through
various family members or friends while I waited. Finally, they contacted my OBGYN and she
helped get me moved to Women’s Services again.
They discovered that I had a gastro-intestinal infection and immediately
began treatment. Within 24 hours, my husband and son were cleared to stay with
me in the hospital room. Soon I was well
and cleared to go home!
When we
finally made it home, I threw all of the opened formula away. I hid the unopened boxes in a drawer in his
nursery. I sat down with Calvin and
stared at him. He was perfect, but after
a week and a half of crazy, I felt like I had missed my moment. Who was this “thing” looking back at me? I went through nursing like it was a chore. In secret, I told my husband that I didn’t
bond with him the way I was supposed to at the hospital, and I thought I would
never feel close to him the way I should. In preparation for having a baby, I had
researched and learned ALL about what to do if your baby wouldn’t latch. I was not prepared for what to do if your baby
DID latch, but you would rather have your husband feed him a bottle. Fortunately, my husband kept encouraging me
to continue nursing.
After a few
weeks of milk going everywhere, Calvin losing his latch constantly, and
listening to him gulp loudly, I finally realized that I had an overproduction
of milk. I sought advice from a
lactation consultant who encouraged me to try nursing leaning back or lying
down. It was then that I realized the
JOY that is the side-lying nursing position. Calvin loved it! I loved it! And bonus: my forceful letdown stopped
drowning my kid!
Now that we
had conquered breast feeding, it occurred to me: I could sleep way more if I kept Calvin in the bed
with us. We tried a co-sleeper, but he
preferred to be on my arm. I started sleeping skin-to-skin with him. During the days at home alone, I would wrap
him skin-to-skin in a Moby wrap my friend bought for me. Before I knew it,
nursing started feeling different to me. I actually looked forward to my moments
nursing him. I started reaching out to
members of online communities about my experiences with baby-wearing and
nursing. In the communities, I read
breastfeeding stories, and saw photos of other moms nursing. I felt so empowered. I felt like I had finally been invited to be a
part of a secret mom club where it was okay to be real, and it was okay share
the good, bad, and ugly.
At my first
NDWM playdate, I looked around the room at all of the mommas wearing their
babies and smiled. Mixed in among the
crowd, I saw nursing mothers sitting, talking, and proudly nursing their
babies—uncovered. Open nursing, which
only a few months before had caused me such shame, now seemed to me nothing
short of perfect. I felt silly to have
packed a bottle for Calvin to drink, and then sad that he wasn’t hungry and I
wouldn’t be able to nurse him there! Since then, I have found confidence in
breastfeeding. I want all mothers to
feel what I felt that day in a room full of nursing Mommies. I stopped trying to hide under blankets or
covers in public, and I stopped packing bottles. Breastfeeding brought me closer to my baby
boy, and the journey helped me bond to him. I thought I had missed the opportunity for the
perfect breastfeeding and bonding experience, but it turns out… my journey was just
delayed a little!
