Promises, Promises

Breastfeeding can be a touchy subject. Those women who do it tend to be passionate about it…maybe a little too passionate. I breastfeed. I’m glad that I do. It has worked out well for us. But I also stayed at home for the first 10 months, and now only work 1 to 2 days a week as a substitute. I’ll be the first to admit that if I had been forced to go back to work 8 weeks after giving birth, my son would have been on a bottle by week 9...week 10 at the latest. Also, my son was a good eater. I very rarely had worries about whether or not he was getting enough milk…all I had to do was peek at the fat rolls of deliciousness on his legs to satisfy myself that he was one well-nourished kid. I also believe that you can get the same bonding experience with your baby with a bottle as you do a boob…you’re still cradling, cuddling, and making eye contact no matter how the food is being dispensed.

After you get the hang of it, breastfeeding is super-easy. I promise. I couldn’t imagine having to stumble around, all numb and grainy-eyed, holding a screaming baby, in order to fix a bottle at 3 a.m. (And as my son’s first birthday and imminent weaning both loom in the all-too-near future, I find myself a little jealous of formula-feeding moms who are probably excited to ditch the Similac in favor of milk, whereas I have used my boobs as both nourishment and comfort, sleep aid and general baby crutch.)

Anyhow, I digress.
Breastfeeding my son was an easy choice to make while I was pregnant and feeling all glow-y and Earth Motherish. My choice had a lot to do with the fact that breastfeeding is the best thing for your baby’s health and for your own. Not only does your baby get milk made especially for him, all full of antibodies and other baby goodies, but it can significantly decrease your chance of getting breast cancer, gets your uterus back into shape quicker, and, for many women, helps them lose their pregnancy weight at a much more rapid pace. (I had gained 40 pounds with my pregnancy, and had lost 37 of them by my 6 week check-up.)

My choice also had a lot to do with this image I had of me feeding my firstborn, holding this perfect baby to my breast with ease as he suckled as nature intended. It would be perfect, it would be glorious…

I was wrong.

I had my son via emergency c-section. Statistics show that women have c-sections tend to have a tougher time breastfeeding, and typically give it up sooner and more often then women who give birth naturally. I am glad I didn’t know this at the time, because by the time my son was a week old, I would have looked for any way out.

Breastfeeding wasn’t so bad in the hospital. I was surrounded by a contingent of nurses and lactation consultants who applauded my choice and eagerly helped me position my baby for every feeding, timed the twenty-minute-per-boob rule, and reassured me that although my milk hadn’t come in, the colostrum was all he needed. This brings me to my first nugget of hard-won wisdom:

Learn all the holds, and learn them well. Because I had a c-section, the only hold I was shown was the “football” hold, where the baby is cradled next to the body and held much like, well, a football. This is a good hold for c-section patients because it keeps the baby off of the incision. It’s also a great bonding hold because it makes for perfect viewing of that new little face to which you just gave birth. But it is also a position that is quickly outgrown by your little one (unless you want to sit on the very edge of the couch as little legs grow longer and longer) and doesn’t allow for any multi-tasking. Ask about other holds, as well…the cradle hold is great, and you can also nurse while laying down. But take advantage of the team of experts at the hospital and actually learn them - have them show you, and then do it yourself. Then do it again. Because in a day or two, it’s just going to be you and a screaming baby at 3 a.m., and you’re going to really wish you had.

My milk didn’t come in until my son was 5 days old. On his 4^th night on this earth, he began to cry, and over time, this escalated into screaming. I had just nursed him, his diaper was dry, I had cuddled and rocked him in an attempt to soothe, then laid him down in case he was over-stimulated, but still, he screamed. I was in tears, and my husband was pacing and wearing that annoying “I want to say something but I’m scared” look on his face, so I snapped, “What is it?” and he replied, gingerly, so as not to awaken the hormonal, post-natal beast that I could quickly morph into, “I think he’s hungry.” It had been exactly what I had been thinking, but didn’t want to say. I was nursing him every 3 hours, for the requisite 20-minutes-per-breast in order to stimulate my milk flow, I was doing everything right...

I did the unthinkable. I gave him a bottle of formula. (Or, more honestly, my husband did - I collapsed into bed and slept for a blissful 5 hours.) And he stopped crying. Which brings me to this:

Listen to your instinct…and your baby. I will probably catch a lot of flak for this - lactation consultants and the La Leche League will say that your baby doesn’t need anything else, that colostrum is perfectly sufficient. They will also tell you that going from breast to bottle can cause nipple confusion. The only expertise I have is that of a mom who does breastfeed, and the input I have from other breastfeeding moms, and I think that makes my opinion valid, and no one I have ever met has ever had a problem with nipple confusion. My husband gave our son one bottle a night for the first 4 months of his life, and he never had any problem with it. And it eased my anxiety that first night we did it. It’s okay to give some formula. I promise. I had no idea just how frightened that my baby wasn’t getting enough nutrition from me until he had the bottle, and at that point, I was getting scared that my milk wasn’t ever going to come in.

I was wrong.

It was the very next feeding, 5 hours after the bottle had been given, that I woke up with rock hard breasts that were literally spurting milk from both nipples. My breast pads (placed there oh-so-hopefully) were soaked, my nursing bra was soaked, my shirt was soaked, the sheets were soaked…which brings me to this:

Your milk will come in. I promise. If you feel your baby is hungry, give him a bottle of formula, but only do so after you have nursed him 20 minutes per side. You do have to do some things in order to get things flowing, but chances are, they will flow…or, rather, erupt.

My son nursed like he had just hit the jackpot. I was charmed by my body’s ability to nourish, and, at first, didn’t mind the messiness of it all. That lasted for about 2 days. And then I was just annoyed that, on top of having a new baby to care for, I had a massive amount of laundry piling up due to my boobs, and now, not only were my nipples sore from being sucked on, my boobs felt like they had a headache. I could feed him, then hear a baby cry on TV and become engorged all over again.

This is temporary. I promise. At first, your body doesn’t know how much your baby needs, or even how many babies you're feeding, so engorgement is kind of like nature’s way of covering the bases. But, over the span of several weeks or so, your body will learn your baby’s feeding pattern, and respond accordingly. Chances are, you’ll be engorged in the morning for quite awhile, and you’ll probably have to change pads, or bra, or pads and bra and T-shirt and sheets, but it will stop. And honestly, if you can, take advantage of it and try to pump, then freeze your excess. It’s nice to have as many feedings squirreled away as possible, for when you do have to leave your baby somewhere. (Because at some point you will, I promise.)

For nearly the first three weeks of my son’s life, I cried nearly as often as he did. Not only was my body going through this huge, disgusting hormonal change that had me screeching in fury over a wet towel left on the floor by my husband one minute than sobbing over what a horrible wife I was the next, I felt resentful that even after giving birth, I couldn’t reclaim my body as my own. My boobs hurt when he nursed, and they ached when he wasn‘t. And no one had told me that newborn breastfed babies poop so much.

It‘s okay to take a break and ask for help. Hopefully, you have a willing spouse or significant other on hand to help out. I say this not out of any conventional beliefs I have, because I don’t, but because, as a mom, I know you need support…especially if you’re breastfeeding. Your significant other needs to know that breastfeeding is hard, because they not only need to appreciate what you are doing in order to give your baby a great start in life, but also because they need to be your cheerleader. At some point, I promise, there will come a moment when you are holding that pink, perfect baby in your arms, and he is suckling at one tender, beat-up, sore-as-hell nipple while your other boobs squirts milk 3 feet out, and you are going to want to quit. Let your significant other know you are going to want to quit, so they can tell you to try just one more time, each time you say it. Because you will say it, in tears, several times.

But at some point, you’re going to wake up in response to your baby’s cry in the middle of the night. You will go get him, and settle down in your favorite nursing spot, lift your shirt, and both of you will sigh with relief and comfort, and you’re going to suddenly realize, “Oh. Hey. This is easy. This is actually nice.”

I promise.