I've been wanting to write a post on breastfeeding for a while, but one thing or another has always stopped me. Since it's World Breastfeeding Week, I figured now's probably a good time to actually write it.
The decision to breastfeed or not is entirely a personal decision. I'm not going to fill this post with statistics discussing how breastfeeding can reduce heathcare costs for our nation, the association between breastfeeding and higher IQ, or the increase in numbers of breastfeeding moms. All of that information is out there and readily available via Google search. While I believe firmly that breastfeeding is the right choice, I also recognize that it's not the only choice. And it's not my place to determine what is right for other women.
Instead, I want to talk about what breastfeeding has been like for me. I was fortunate enough to have some very honest women in my life share their experiences with me before Juliet was born. I listened to all of their stories and felt like the variety of experiences left me prepared for almost any eventuality. If this entry helps just one other mom, then it's worth my time to write.
Before I talked to my friends who had breastfed (or tried to breastfeed), I thought it was just this easy, natural thing. After all, women have been breastfeeding for thousands of years. It's natural. How hard can it really be?
The answer is really effing hard.
For starters, I had no idea what I was doing, and as Juliet was brand new, she certainly didn't know what she was doing. And although my experience at Tallahassee Memorial was excellent, I didn't have a lactation consultant in the delivery room. (Honestly, besides limiting the number of times a nurse can come in the room in the middle of the night to check your vitals, that is the only thing I'd change about my entire experience there.) So because neither of us knew what we were doing, Juliet wasn't latched properly. I got what the nurses called a "misfire" which is a nice way to put "terrible, bloody blister that will bleed and takes a week to heal." This misfire made nursing excruciatingly painful for me. I tried to use a nipple shield to try to make things a little more comfortable until I healed. I also pumped a good bit and gave Juliet a bottle of breast milk.
Then, I had a hard time figuring out the hold that worked best. We had to do football hold for the first several weeks and then were finally able to transition to cross cradle and then - finally - cradle. The Boppy was really helpful, though, with all holds.
Every single thing I'd read and been told before Juliet was born and immediately after said that she should nurse for 20 - 40 minutes. So the first week - 10 days of Juliet's life, Ray or I would start a stopwatch when Juliet latched. And we'd stop the clock when she stopped nursing. And start it again when we could get her to relatch. And stop when she stopped. And on and on and on. We were both already sleep-deprived. But this method meant that a 20-minute feeding actually took an hour and a half. When you're supposed to be waking your baby every three hours to feed her, and feedings take an hour and half, you're never getting more than an hour of half of sleep at time. I don't deal well with stress when I'm tired. I learned quickly that there is a massive difference between being tired and being sleep-deprived. I remember looking at Ray in the middle of the night after a feeding and just crying out of sheer exhaustion and desperation. He said, "Now you understand why sleep-deprivation is used an interrogation technique, don't you?" Um, yeah. I think I'd have told anyone anything at that point if it meant I could sleep. After days of this, I finally decided to Google how long it should take a baby to eat. Hey, guess what? It turns out there isn't a right answer. Some babies take 40 minutes. Other babies, like Juliet, are power-eaters and are done in 7 minutes. Once I figured this out, my life changed. I trusted that Juliet would eat until she was full. And she did, and we all lived.
I struggled with oversupply and overactive letdown. A result of this was a very gassy (and therefore very scream-y at times) baby. There's not really a whole lot you can do for either of these problems. I learned to sit Juliet up as much as possible while feeding her and to lean back while feeding her. I also would let down into a towel (or a bottle so that I wasn't wasting milk) before getting Juliet to latch on. Given the choice between oversupply and undersupply, I'd obviously rather have the former. But it definitely had its own set of challenges. A week or so ago, my friend Kellie (who is an Attachment Parent) posted a link on my Facebook wall that she knew would make me laugh. It was on an AP discussion board, and it was about "the crunchiest thing you do" as a parent. I'm not very crunchy, and Kellie knows this, which is why she knew I'd laugh. But it got me thinking. What is the crunchiest thing I do? The answer is pretty simple. I donate my breastmilk.
That may sound crazy. It certainly felt crazy at first. But here's the deal. Because I had such an oversupply, I had a considerable stash of frozen breastmilk - more than Juliet would need barring my untimely demise. And so my (also crunchy, AP) friend Adrianne added me to a Facebook group for Tallahassee Milk Share. I had a lot of questions, including, "Is this even legal?!?" (I had visions of this mom trying to buy raw milk.) One of the group leaders was very helpful and answered all of my questions, and I found out that it's totally legal. I still felt sort of unsure, so I prayed about it. I'd read stories from women in the group who were asking for donor milk, and they were heart-wrenching. I wanted to help these women, but I also was worried that if I gave away my stash that my child might suddenly need it. (In retrospect, that seems an awful lot like something a hoarder would say.) But the more I prayed about it, the more I felt called to give. So I chose a mom with a baby a couple of weeks older than Juliet and reached out to her. As of this weekend, I have given her hundreds of ounces of breastmilk. It doesn't feel strange anymore. It feels good. It's definitely pretty crunchy, but it just makes sense. I have more than we need.
Breastfeeding while Juliet was teething was pretty rough. She wanted to nurse a lot - comfort nursing. And while I'm not usually one for comfort nursing (again, I'm not an AP parent), I would do anything I could to help ease Juliet's pain. At times, it felt like she was chewing on me. It was pretty awful. But the alternative - weaning and switching Juliet to formula - just felt like the wrong choice. And, thankfully, Juliet got through the teething phase and doesn't chew on me.
I have no doubt that all mothers think at some point or another, "Motherhood is hard." Put simply, it is. But breastfeeding, to me, adds another level of difficulty to being a mom. Your child is literally dependent on you for food. There are times when I think, "My body is not my own. My body is Juliet's." I cannot do anything, go anywhere without stopping to think, "Do I need to bring the pump?" I've had to step out of client meetings to pump, had to pump in public restrooms, and even had to pump in an airplane bathroom. I try to schedule all meetings, appointments, and social engagements around pumping/feeding. Most days, it's no big deal - just part of being a mom. But some days, it's very hard. Some days, it's overwhelming. Some days, I wish my body was my own again.
And pumping. Dear Lord. I have a love/hate relationship with my Medela Pump in Style Advanced. I am so very, very grateful for it. Without it, I would not have been able to continue breastfeeding Juliet after I went back to work. Since my goal with breastfeeding is to make it to one year and my maternity leave was only three months long, the PISA allows me to keep my supply up and to pump enough to leave with Juliet's caretaker during the day. But I am so tired of hooking up to that thing. I feel like a cow at a dairy farm. And I got this lovely accessory so that I could pump hands-free. Seriously, at times, I just think, "This is just not sexy." But as must as I look forward to the day when I can stop pumping, I am very grateful for the freedom the PISA affords me. If it weren't for that pump, I'd never be able to leave Juliet.
So why breastfeed? If it's not easy and not comfortable and not convenient, why do I bother? The answer there is pretty simple. I believe with every bit of my being that it's what's best for my child. I believe that it's better than formula and healthier, too. So I choose to breastfeed Juliet because it's not about me. It's about her. And that makes every bit of trouble, discomfort, and inconvenience totally worth it.
I know this post has been really, really long. But I have one more thing I need to say about my breastfeeding experience. I would be remiss if I didn't credit Ray in this process. He has been unfailingly supportive through all of it, even before Juliet was born. He educated himself about breastfeeding while I was pregnant and became a staunch advocate of breastfeeding. While Juliet and I were still trying to figure things out, he constantly encouraged me. He functioned as my own personal cheerleader, reinforcing that I was doing a good job and being a good mom. Ray's support and encouragement, even though he is a man and could never share with me or teach me the way another breastfeeding mom could, is truly what got me through the hardest times.
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