Breastfeeding: A Manual for Munchers

Let's have a quick (or not so quick...) chat about breastfeeding, shall we? I wanted to initiate feeding Sprout within the first 30 minutes after delivery, and was lucky enough to do so within about 15 minutes. The experts say that attempting a feeding in the 30 minute post-delivery window aids in the little critter developing a good latch, and helps with milk production. I was so nervous about what it would feel like, and constantly pondered whether or not it would be weird to have a teeny set of jaws clamped firmly around my nipple(s). Not weird at all, thankfully. The strangest part was the nurses who "helped" initiate that first feeding. Here's a tidbit: they drag the baby around in your arms to position him/her correctly, and then grab your breast and shove it into their mouth (the baby, not the nurse...sheesh, mind out of the gutter, people). Baby either latches or doesn't, and they re-attempt, or they don't. Formula feeding was out of the question for me. I had smelled the stuff, and wouldn't feed it to my dog with a good conscience. Or so I thought. Anyways, Sprout apparently had what looked to be a good latch, and despite what I had been told in prenatal classes, the nurses informed me that it would be "uncomfortable" for the first few weeks.

I handled it okay the first couple of days...and the first couple of weeks...and then I had some pretty bad issues. I got plugged ducts in both breasts, and frantically spent 24 hours feeding Sprout every 2 hours (which she was doing anyways) and doing vigorous massage with heat packs on between feedings. I had cracks on both nipples and ended up with thrush. Sprout continued her "perfect" latch, and by 3-4 weeks postpartum, I couldn't even feed her with a nipple shield without thrashing my legs around every time she nursed (not only during latch - the whole feeding). My nipples were beginning to turn white, and my milk supply was getting lower. I had three different nurses come visit me at the house (one lactation consultant), and all gave me good advice, it just didn't change anything. Certain positions made it a little more bearable, but all in all, it didn't get any better and the damage continued. I went to see my family physician, and she referred me out to a lactation consultant at the public health unit. "Awesome," I thought, "someone who will figure this out for me!"

My first visit with the consultant (let's call her...Lacto Lady) pretty much resulted in the same advice I had already been given, and my hopes for a miracle fix went spiralling down the drain. Lacto Lady said that Sprout looked to be latching correctly, although she did notice that she was sure biting down a lot, and very firmly. I just about said "Um...HELLO?! She's not only biting, she's clamping down almost constantly between sucks, clicking her tongue to the top of her mouth (imagine how that feels over and over), and pulling back whilst biting my nipple!" But...I didn't. I just went along with the advice, said that I'd try everything she suggested (which I did), and come back the following week. The second visit consisted of Lacto Lady marvelling at the damage that Sprout was continuing to do to my battered nipples, and her shrugging her shoulders and telling me "Oh well, some babies just don't take to breastfeeding." I was absolutely crushed.

I didn't want that to be the end of me feeding Sprout. As painful as it was, I always looked forward to the sweet little look on her face while she sucked (and bit), and her little kitten paws kneading my breast on either side of her face. So cute. Plus, as a mother, you have a few jobs that are purely yours. One is to provide life-sustaining milk for your child. My supply was still dwindling, and I was having to supplement Sprout with an ounce of formula every once in a while (she has only ever had 7 oz up to this point). I felt like a failure. Every attempt at feeding resulted in tears, usually for both of us. Combine that with postnatal hormones, a bit of the baby blues, and a grandfather with end-stage lung cancer in palliative care...I was a bit of a basket case for a while. I was determined to not give up, so at 6 weeks, I was referred to see the breastfeeding specialist (Doctor, not lactation consultant...let's call her Dr. Milk) at the hospital in E. I had such high hopes, because I had heard that she really did work miracles with moms having feeding issues!

I literally skipped across the parking lot with Sprout in her stroller to my first appointment with Dr. Milk. My heart was racing with the excitement of possibly retaining that precious bond with my daughter. I was examined by two interns before Dr. Milk came into the room, and both said that they had seen severe cases like mine, and thought there was a great chance of turning things around! Yippee! The examination continued of both myself and Sprout, and I was even told at one point that I had "nice hardware" - a comment that forced me to stifle a ridiculously violent case of the giggles. After the thorough look-over, I latched on my little Sprout and she began to chomp away. Various attempts at repositioning her did nothing to assuage my noticeable discomfort, and even the nipple shield at this point did not even slow the razor blades that continuously sliced through my breasts. Dr. Milk's response to this? "Hmmm...she really clamps down, hey?" Ummm, yes. She came to the conclusion that because of all of the compression (you could see the line from where she flattened my nipple by biting when she unlatched), and because my nipples had turned completely white (not thrush, just the colour of the actual skin itself), Sprout had actually severely damaged the blood vessels in my breasts and nipples. And when I say damaged, they were white because she cut off my blood supply. I was given a few exercises to do, but in the meantime, Dr. Milk suggested that I buy a medical grade pump to maintain my milk supply and possibly aid in healing my poor dairy cows. "No pacifiers, and try not to give her a bottle more than once or twice per day. It may take up to three weeks to get going again," she said. I was supposed to go back and see her twice in that period, and did. To no avail. The damage was so beyond fixable while I was still nursing her that by the third visit, she sat me down and told me it was time to stop. If I was able to keep up my milk supply and bottle feed Sprout breastmilk, that was good enough. Good enough for whom, I wondered. The thought of giving up, and possibly not being able to provide enough milk to feed my little Sprout absolutely broke my heart, and though I continued to try (and still do, occasionally...) and nurse once in a while, I gradually transitioned to solely pumping milk for her by the time she was 12 weeks.

And that brings me to pumping. Exclusive pumpers usually do not last much beyond the 12-15 week mark, in terms of milk production - and sanity! Let me put it this way - nobody would ever choose to pump milk for their child full-time. It is more work than breastfeeding and formula feeding combined. To keep up my supply, I have to pump for 30 minutes every 2-4 hours during the day, and every 6 hours overnight to make sure I don't end up with plugged ducts or mastitis. On top of that, I have to bottle feed my child on demand, which is usually also between every 2-4 hours during the day, and lately, she has been waking up for a nighttime feeding (she was sleeping through the night for a few solid weeks). Then, I have to wash and sterilize all of my pump parts, bottles, nipples, etc. and separate the milk into either bags for the deep freeze or bottles for the day. In between all of that, I have to make time to play with my Sprout, eat (blog to follow regarding the eating disorder that is known as BMS - Busy Mommy Syndrome), do the housework, make supper, and get myself ready for work three times per week**. Rinse, and repeat. We used to have two dogs. Now we have one. Catch my drift?

**Side note: I am a registered massage therapist and infant massage educator. I take 7 clients per week in the evenings and on Saturdays while my husband watches the Sprout. So add working, and having to pump at work into the mix.

I am so sick and tired of people saying that I brag about how much milk I have stored in the freezer (currently up to 115 four-ounce bags). I have worked my ass off for the past four months to feed my child and keep my milk supply up, and I have been fortunate enough to do so. Not only that, I am proud of the fact that I have been able to continue solely feeding her breastmilk. That is the one thing I have left to hold on to after my hopes of breastfeeding Sprout were shattered. Do I have a fairly compliant child? Most of the time, yes, but that does not mean that she is perky and ready to play every minute of every day. She is, remember, a baby. Just like the rest of us, she has her crabby days and nights (usually 2-3 per week). I look at all of the other moms that I know that can breastfeed, and my heart breaks whenever I have to stuff my engorged breasts into those fucking silicone tubes and then feed Sprout a bottle. Do I resent those of you who are currently breastfeeding? If I'm being honest, maybe a little. I even envy those who can just afford to formula feed, because it would make life a hell of a lot easier. Mostly, though, it is just envy, not resentment. What I am honestly getting tired of though is people saying how funny they think it is when I finally admit to needing a day of rest. For the past four months, I have been a very active Mommy. I cart Sprout around everywhere with me. We go to the mall, run errands, go to classes, we swim, take the dog for walks, and visit friends and family. In between all of that, I still have to find time to pump, whether it is in the vehicle or at someone else's house, and eat, which has been an issue (Sprout has a Cow's milk protein allergy...more on that later). I guess what I am trying to say is that although I love my life with my little girl, and wouldn't trade the time I do get to spend with her, I would give anything to be able to spend more time with her, breastfeeding.

So the next time anyone wants to try and tell me how easy my life must be because I am pumping, bottle feeding, and I have a good baby (which I do, I know how fortunate I am that she is as well-behaved as she is), or complain about me being able to pump as much milk as I do, I'm pretty sure I might just punch them square in the face. Did I try hard enough to continue breastfeeding? Did I make enough of an effort? Sometimes I doubt myself, but I remember what the first nurse said that saw the damage Sprout had done: "If I were you, I would have already quit. I don't know how you are still doing it and not losing your mind." That was at three weeks. Everyone usually has a difficult time with breastfeeding. Babies don't magically come out of the womb knowing exactly what to do. We are all built differently, and so are they. It is a learning experience for everyone. I am so incredibly grateful for the ability to pump enough milk to feed my child, and to have extra feedings to store for a time when I can hopefully stop pumping. All I want to say is that those of you who can breastfeed should think twice before complaining about it - especially in front of those who are not able. That, and I am damn proud of the milk I have been able to produce for Sprout. If someone wants to call that out as me having an ego, go for it. I dare you. Off to the mystical milking machine...everything I do is always for you, Sprout, out of pure love.

xoxoxo

Mommy