Breastfeeding - A Love-It/Hate-It Resource

I haven’t breastfed in four and a half months. A hateful little voice in the back of my mind likes to remind me of this every time I feed my kid a bottle. So as if the internal guilt trip wasn’t enough, then there’s the looks of pity from people here and there out in public who think I’m siphoning poison down her throat. So I’m just gonna throw this out there.

Bottle feeding is okay.

This is going to be my experience with breastfeeding and bottle feeding, if you’re wanting to know what’s REALLY hiding behind those peaceful photos of mothers and nursing children.

THE FIRST TWO WEEKS

The night Kelsey was born, the nurse handed her to me and showed me how to get her to latch. In my drug-swept haze, there was zero pain, she latched immediately, and ate contendedly.

“This isn’t bad at all,” I remember saying. “I think I can do this!”

Three days and two bloody scabs later, I was crying in defeat. Don’t let me dissuade you, though – I happen to have overly sensitive blood vessels (vasospasms) that make breastfeeding hurt more than it should. I tried everything to keep on that horse but just kept getting kicked off.

The first two weeks are breastfeeding boot camp, especially if you want to be able to pump an additional supply for the freezer. This is ideal if you’re going back to work, or if you just want to save for a rainy day. Baby needs to eat about every one and a half to two hours. And the feed can take anywhere from 20-45 minutes, if not more. You space out the time by the latch; so if Kelsey ate from 7:00 til 7:45, she’d need to eat again at 9:00 at the latest. If you want to boost your supply and begin a freezer stash, you pump for ten minutes or so after every feed. T his is a lot of time to have something stuck to you.

And it hurts.

Under normal circumstances, after the initial latch pain, the pinch should subside and become much more bearable. Some women feel no discomfort. I was in brutal, make-me-wince pain for the duration of the feed AND the pump. And lanolin can only do so much.

GOING WITH THE FLOW

Pun intended.

After two weeks, your milk supply is established. Baby still needs to eat about every two hours. Also at this time you’re probably experiencing the baby blues, which affect 95-97% of post-partum women. Top all of that with healing from just having given birth, and you’re in a special circle of hell. After my c-section I wasn’t allowed to drive or use the stairs for two weeks, so I was very limited in what I could do. Basically I sat in a rocking chair and nursed and pumped all day. You feel like a cow, you’re still full of baby fat, your hormones are having a motherfucking rave in your body, you constantly bleed worse than you ever have before, your husband is DYING for the six-week mark to get here, and this whiny, beautiful little worm wants to be attached to you ALL THE TIME.

CAN’T SOMEBODY NOT WANT YOU FOR FIVE GODDAMN MINUTES

Unfortunately, no. Husband is going to have to deal. So don’t worry about him. Baby, however, DOES need you to manage to collect yourself at three in the morning, undo that nursing bra, and cringe with anticipation of the latch.

TROUBLESHOOTING

Those first weeks were absolutely brutal in the worst definition of the word. I was ready to drive off a cliff - except I wasn’t allowed to drive, har har. Even when looking for support in my mom’s group meetings, which were ran by a lactation consultant (LC), I found nothing but pressure.

First we thought Kelsey was having trouble latching. She would bite and twist, and be very violent during her feeds, and she wanted to be latched the majority of the day. Half of which was just comfort sucking. So we went back to the hospital and the LC’s tried to help out with feeding positions, watching her latch, and giving me tips. Nothing changed and the pain was still fierce.

Then the LC got wind that I was playing with the idea of exclusively pumping. Kelsey had already taken a couple bottles, but I still needed to get up every two to three hours to pump anyway. I figured rather than feed her for 45 minutes and then pump for 15, I’d let David feed her while I pumped. And the LC told me this was a terrible idea. She explained nipple confusion and how bottle feeding would wreck Kelsey’s latch.

I’m convinced it depends on the baby, but “nipple confusion” is a guilt mechanism to keep you breastfeeding. Some babies truly do end up preferring the bottle and not latching, because the bottle gives more food for less work. But Kelsey had no such problem, and neither did other babies whose mothers I spoke to. She actually preferred me for the comfort and closeness, so I ended up becoming her pacifier as well as her food source. Ow.

The only real driving force that kept me going was my own guilt. I loved the milk-coma smiles and when she would fall asleep with her cheek to my chest. Her poop didn’t stink. And I knew I was giving her the best food she could have. But mostly I loved the snuggles.

Yes, I have a heart.

But I tried exclusively pumping. I made it for a month. After David went back to work it got to be difficult to take care of Kelsey AND pump. I tried to pump when she slept but – it never failed – she would wake up and start having a fit after the pain finally subsided enough for milk to flow. And she would have to sit there and whine while I was attached to this torture device for twenty minutes. Nights went so much better, since the time to take care of her was cut in half for me. David would change her and feed her a bottle while I pumped. We got done at the same time. I got a freezer stash built up, and hoped I could use it to finish out the summer bottle feeding so I could stop pumping early.

At six weeks, though, my baby blues had turned into full-blown post-partum depression. My OB wouldn’t prescribe anything while pumping, so he recommended I get out in the sunshine more and find a way to get more sleep. Seeing as how I had to pump every three to four hours by this point, there wasn’t much more sleep to be had, and this was in April, when rain dominates Pittsburgh. My therapist was helping me cope with the idea to stop pumping, and suggested I go ahead and get the medication I needed.

After that appointment I picked up my prescription, pumped my last bottle, and took my meds. And I cried the whole time.

A couple weeks later, the pediatrician told us Kelsey wasn’t digesting the cow’s milk proteins in my milk well, so we should try soy formula. I sobbed like an irrational mess as I mixed that first bottle and fed it to her. But she took right to it, didn’t even notice the change, and she became a completely new, happier baby.

PSYCHOLOGY SHIT

Moms are pretty well programmed to guilt themselves over every little decision that involves their child. I cried over that first formula bottle like I was ordered to poison my kid. I felt like a failure. When the LC called me to “check in” after I started taking my meds, and I told her I had to stop pumping, the disappointment in her voice was palpable. “Well, sometimes you have to do what’s best for you,” she said sadly.

Yeah I did.

It took months of therapy to finally come to terms with stopping breastfeeding. Why I beat myself up so bad, I have no idea, but that little bastard voice is STILL in the back of my mind. So if you’ve come here looking for permission to quit – IT IS OKAY.

Your baby WILL live. Sometimes they thrive better off formula than with your milk. Kelsey couldn’t handle the dairy I ate, and whenever I had even a little garlic, she was a horrid mess the next day. She had stringy-looking diapers, which is a sign of intolerance to something. She cried a lot, even with gas drops. She was always full of air, and would spend two hours every morning and every evening crying non-stop. On soy formula, she rarely fusses, is never gassy, digests everything perfectly, and is a happy, smiley baby.

The public will get over it. Babies aren’t on a liquid diet forever, and it’s a fairly recent movement to promote breastfeeding. Some women STILL don’t think it’s natural, even though it is. It can be a wonderful bonding experience, but so can bottle feeding. I hold Kelsey close with every feed and she touches my face, studies me, smiles when I talk. If you get looks, make a big deal over your baby. Kiss her head, make stupid noises, have fun with the feed and be obnoxious. Your baby will think it’s hilarious, you’ll look like one hell of a fun mom, and that bitch with the hateful face will look like a jackass.

I put myself through emotional, physical, and psychological hell for six weeks, and it took a need for anti-depressants to make the decision for me. And I still sortof regret it, even though Kelsey is thriving. I even tried straight-up breastfeeding again right before quitting in hopes that it might not hurt anymore. Seeing that she still remembered how to latch and how content she seemed tore me right in half when I found the pain was still very much there, and she was still a violent eater. With the next bottle she looked at me like “why aren’t you feeding me?” which translated to “why don’t you love me?”

I get it.

It’s okay.

It will be okay. Soon solids will be introduced, bottle feedings will lessen, and the whole debacle will be a thing of the past.

RESOURCES I TURNED TO

I have been a part of an online group since I found out I was pregnant last summer, based off a forum from The Bump. The women on that forum broke off and made a Facebook group, so I went through pregnancy, the hospital stay, and all of Kelsey’s life so far with 111 other women at the same stage. I highly suggest joining a similar group, on whatever forum you choose, especially if you’re somewhat isolated from friends and family. This group has been a vital support system since the beginning.

Kellymom is an excellent source of help and FAQs about child-rearing but I came here all the time for breastfeeding information.

Lucie's List is written by a woman on my wavelength, and breaks babyhood down into reasonable terms. She’s very down-to-Earth, and you feel like you CAN do this after reading her tips.

I wouldn’t bother with any of the What to Expect books. It’s been my experience (and many women agree) that they are worst-case-scenario books that tell you everything that can go wrong. When reading the breastfeeding section, I felt like I was being lectured and further pressured. What to Expect – the First Year is good to have on hand as a reference for milestones each month and “should I call the pediatrician” moments.

This article – It Will Get Better – helped me cope with stopping breastfeeding, as well as just pulling through post-partum depression. It’s been saved in my Favorites tab for the days I feel like I just can’t do it. Because even though I was sick to death of hearing “it will get better” – I wanted it better NOW – it eventually did get better.