Wednesday, August 19, 2015

New Mom Anxiety About Breastfeeding ~ Lindsey and Calvin







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!

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