It’s World Breastfeeding Week (or Month, depending on what post you see). This is also the month that I have chosen to stop nursing (exclusively pumping / combo feeding) Matthew and I thought I would share a bit about our breastfeeding journey on the off chance that it might bring comfort to another new mama out there with a similar experience while she discerns what’s best for her family.
Let me preface this with the following: I was formula fed. I was also raised by parents who worked full time outside of the home, went to public school, and was delivered via cesarean (including an epidural). And I turned out fine.
There is no “right” way to raise your baby. As long as you are loving on that sweet child, you are doing what’s best.
These seem like ridiculous statements to have to make, but I know a lot of women who’ve been criticized for the way they choose to raise their kiddos. A friend of mine was stopped by a stranger in the grocery store while buying formula and told that breast is best. Another friend’s sister was criticized by her doctor for choosing not to breastfeed. The comments I hear from people who assume I went to private school about public school education are laughable. And the level of superiority some people feel for birthing vaginally – especially if they did it un-medicated – is sad.
And I know that because of a lot of these stories, I have found myself personally defensive about my choices in parenting and have even felt like a failure – and I’m only four months in!
So, I want to be clear. This is simply my experience. It’s not meant to be a “this is the right way to do it” post. My story may parallel yours, it may not. You may relate to some of my feelings about nursing, and you may not. Either way, that’s fine.
The main reason I’m writing this all down is because the biggest comfort I’ve felt in my parenting journey so far, is friends sharing they’ve had similar experiences.
When I announced I was being induced, I was shocked at the number of friends who shared positive induction experiences. And when I shared my difficulties breastfeeding, I was similarly met with the solidarity of women I love, some that were right there in the thick of it with me. In fact, when I was deciding whether or not to stop nursing, it was a post from a friend articulating similar feelings that, in a sense, gave me permission to follow my instincts and set an end date.
My hope is that this post might offer some of that same sense of solidarity I’ve been blessed with. Our mothering journeys may be eerily similar or radically different, but in the end, we are mamas aiming to do what is best for our sweet babies. And that’s really all we need to worry about.
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I had always intended to breastfeed exclusively. There were are myriad of reasons, some rational, some personal, some to save time on cloth diapers. I’d heard nursing could be challenging, but had always assumed that was more of a physical issue that I could maybe get used to – cracked nipples, engorgement, etc. I didn’t know about struggling with your milk supply or teaching your baby to latch or anything like that. Naïve Sarah just assumed those things worked out, and once you pushed through the pain of new sensations, it would be smooth sailing.
Ha.
Matthew was a tricky baby who loved to latch, but hated to nurse. He fooled two lactation consultants and a few nurses at the hospital with this charade. So, when we went to our doctor appointment four days after his birth and found out he’d lost nearly 10% of his weight, I was surprised. I was also exhausted and emotional. It would seem that the reason our baby was so cranky was because he was not eating. That was also the reason he had not had a bowel movement since coming home. I would be screaming too – and in reality, I was crying nearly as much as he was.
The pediatrician suggested we begin supplementing with formula, which I was hesitant to do only because I didn’t want him to be fonder of the bottle than to mom. This ended up being the case. I didn’t know to try slow flow / preemie bottles to make him work for the formula. I also didn’t completely know how to pump and had been told wrong instructions from the resident who saw us at our pediatric appointment.
A few days trial of nursing and then supplementing indicated Matthew was barely eating at my breast. I was more or less a glorified pacifier. I called the lactation consultant hotline and was instructed to try breastfeeding, supplementing, and then pumping (correctly) for 30 minutes every 2-3 hours, which I would later learn is known as triple feeding.
I hate triple feeding.
It was awful and did not improve my supply at all.
At 5 weeks, I was finally able to get into see a lactation consultant in person (thanks COVID). I was still triple feeding and was teetering on the edge of breaking down from exhaustion and emotion daily. I had done more research and ordered different supplements, foods, etc. I ate all the oatmeal, drank all the teas, took various pills, drank all the water, and more. Nothing had worked.
The LC listened to what I’d been doing and observed Matthew’s nursing on both sides with a nipple shield to hopefully mimic the sensation of his bottles. His latch was good, actually better than it had ever been. He showed all signs of drinking well and I was very hopeful, but his weight gain post nursing told a different story. He drank around .5 ounces in 15 minutes. The trickster had fooled us again.
Even though we didn’t correct anything at our appointment, the LC confirming that I had tried everything there was to try and I wasn’t missing other possible options gave me an incredible gift of peace.
I wasn’t failing as a mom. I had done all I could do. It wasn’t working, and that was ok.
We stopped triple feeding that night. It. Was. Glorious.
And even though there wasn’t a huge surge in milk production, there was a tiny increase that only someone who’d been meticulously been measuring milk would notice. But it was there, and I would guess had to do with my decreased stress levels and increased sleep.
I continued pumping what I could and supplementing with formula. I continued trying with supplements and food, hopeful that maybe time was all I needed.
For a few weeks I’d managed to pump enough so that he only needed 1, maybe 2 bottles of formula a day. But the constant pumping took up so much of my time. I was pumping for 30 minute periods plus two power hours a day and not even producing enough for a full day’s needs. The long pumping session took a ton of time and coordination with naps or specific windows where he would likely be in good spirits. Honestly, it just wasn’t sustainable for us.
Additionally, I had grown to hate pumping. I felt like a dairy cow and there was no sense of bonding with my baby that had inspired my desire to breast feed in the first place.
So, at the beginning of July, I told Michael I would only do one more month of this feeding regiment. I had ordered another new set of supplements, but unless they turned out to be the miracle combination my body needed, I was done.
They were not the magic fix, and if anything, my supply dwindled during those last weeks of pumping. I think my body knew.
And so, on August 2, the day sweet Matty turned 4 months, I said so long to the long days of being attached to my pump. It’s been a little less than a week, and I’ve only needed to pump for comfort 3 times (told you my supply was low) and any other slight engorgement is relieved the only other time Matthew will take my breast – first thing in the morning, snuggled next to mama while dad runs downstairs to make his bottle.
Those sweet morning cuddles make me wish things had worked differently, but my baby is happy and healthy and I could not ask for more.
Peace,
Sarah
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