Feed the Baby

I imagined breastfeeding would be something that the two of us just "knew" how to do together. It wasn't.

I had heard stories from other women about how painful it could be at first, so when I found myself crying when my daughter latched, I thought to myself, "this is how it goes, I guess." Women receive so many messages throughout their lives about what it means to be a "good" woman and a "good" mother. For me, being able to nurse was a sign of "goodness." Breast is best! Right?

So I thought I just needed to toughen up, work my way through the pain and wait for the euphoria that I felt breastfeeding promised. But by the third day, I couldn't feed her without bursting into tears and crying through the entire feeding. My nipples were cracked, bruised, bleeding, and I cried through our nursing session. So finally, that night, pushing along my newborn baby in the buggy, I made my way to the nurse's station. It was almost midnight. I was in tears, and judging by her cries, she was desperately hungry. I took a deep breath and said to the nurses, " I don't know what to do? I need someone to help me."

“I kept getting mastitis, which I started referring to as the Boob Flu.”

Photo: Baby A, laptop writing report for Montessori teacher training, breast pump backpack, and I’m behind the camera trying to do all the things.

The nurses hugged me, retrieved some formula, and gently asked if they could take care of her for me so I could get some sleep. They would take care of her until the morning. "Sometimes, you just need a little sleep, dear," one of them said to me.

I walked back to my room, but I couldn't fall asleep until I knew she wasn't crying anymore. So I walked back down to the nursery, and sure enough, she had guzzled down 2oz of formula and was sleeping like a rock. I stumbled back to my room and cried myself to sleep. I felt like a failure.

They brought her back to me around 7 am the following day. She was accompanied by the most lovely nurse, who I will refer to as Annie. Annie reported that Little A had been bottle-fed formula every two to three hours and took in 1.5 - 2 ounces each feeding. Then this lovely woman stayed with me for three hours. Teaching me how to use the breast pump, teaching me how to use the breast shield, and tirelessly working with me and Little A on latching. But, unfortunately, the latch was weak, very weak.

Annie helped us make a game plan for feeding this little person. First, nurse with breast shield, both sides or until the baby is satiated. Then, if she was still hungry, offer her a bottle, preferably of breastmilk. After the bottle, put her back down and begin pumping for at least 20 minutes. Once done pumping, store breastmilk, and clean pumping supplies, which need to be sterilized. Repeat this every two-three hours from when you started feeding the baby.

If this sounds exhausting to you, it's because it is. It was. We followed this schedule for a month, with frequent trips to the lactation consultant who said we should have her mouth evaluated by the Pediatric Dentist. It was another month or so until we could get in for an appointment. That day he lasered her lip and tongue. She latched better but wasn't gaining weight. So we kept the 'breast shield, then bottle, then pump, store and clean up' going for another few weeks.

When she was around 10 weeks old, I was told she also had a bubble pallet, and her latch wouldn't improve until she was four months old. After that, I kind of lost it. I was supposed to be back at work already but found myself deep in Post Postpartum Depression and had the aching feeling that my mother, who had been battling Stage Four colon cancer, was going to die soon. It was a lot, and I needed a plan for how I would feed this little person.

I chose to Pump Exclusively, and I pumped for my daughter for 11 months.

It was a lot of work. But, Exclusively Pumping (aka Epping) helped me bridge my desire to give my daughter breast milk and make sure she was getting fed. Because despite what anyone tells you, the best way to be a "good" mother is to make sure the baby is eating. It doesn't matter how - from the breast or bottle or both. There is so much desire, longing, guilt, and privilege wrapped up in breastfeeding it's almost impossible to unpack it all, and we all see and feel it differently.

Was this my ideal? Nope.

Was it the best I could do with what experience I had?

You betchya!

For my second baby, it was the same song just remixed.

It was also a lot more challenging to pump. When you can't regularly empty your breast when you're full of milk, you can get clogged milk ducts which can sometimes result in the most unpleasant infection called mastitis. I kept getting mastitis, which I started referring to as the Boob Flu. I had mastitis three times.

Between my second and third time getting mastitis, I landed in the ER with pneumonia. We had been feeding the new baby with formula and breastmilk for a while. Unfortunately, my supply wasn't great, and I kept getting sick. But after the third Boob Flu, I was all set. I patted myself on the back and texted my husband to buy more formula. I made it seven or eight months the second time around, and I was proud I had even made it that far.

I still feel this air of judgment from the world that I couldn't succeed at breastfeeding. I still feel guilt and shame, it is fading, but it's there.

I don't ask new parents how breastfeeding is going. I ask them how the baby is doing, how they are feeling. If there is something, I can do to be helpful?

Is the baby fed?

Then congratulations, you're doing it!

You're doing great!

One more time, for the parents in the back - You are doing great!!

You're a responsible and loving parent who is tending to the needs of their child.

You're a goddamn rock star.