Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Beginning to Breastfeed

It's been FOREVER since I posted...blame it on...me?

In my previous post I mentioned that I would share a bit about breastfeeding.  Now, if you are a man and a post about breastfeeding with words like "nipple" and "breast" is going to gross you out or worse, cause you to stumble, then stop reading now.  If you chose to continue reading, proceed with caution...

You would think that breastfeeding would come naturally to a new mother.  Women have been doing it for thousands of years, right?  Before the invention of formula it was the only way to feed an infant, apart from hiring a wet nurse who would breastfeed for you.  Surely something so ancient, so natural, so basic for the survival of mankind would be easy.

And yet somehow it is is not.

I share my story to encourage new mothers, or mothers who for whatever reason did not breastfeed their first child/children but want to begin with their next.

Several months before Muffin (that's his nickname now - laugh if you wish, but it just fits him!) was born my doctor asked if I was planning on breastfeeding.  For me the choice was obvious - yes!  Not only is it the healthiest option for the baby, but it's also the cheapest!  She recommended to me a book published by La Leche League called The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding.  She warned me that surprisingly, breastfeeding does not come so naturally to many women and that it would be helpful to prepare myself.  I took her word for it and went straight to Half-Price Books and purchased a copy.  I began reading it and devoured it.  The book is full of so much information on the benefits of breastfeeding that the more I read, the more I realized that it really must be the only way for me.  But it was also very realistic that breastfeeding would not be easy for all women and offered encouragement to continue on no matter what difficulties there may be.  So I was determined.

Muffin was born at 8:59pm on a Thursday night.  They placed him on my chest, all blue and slimy and he screamed and wiggled until he finally realized that I had boobs.  The nurse told me, "he might be willing to nurse now" and sure enough he was looking for something to suck on.  I had read the section of the book on how to get the baby to latch properly a thousand times in hopes that I would be prepared when the first beautiful moment with my son arrived, but when you're laying in that bed with your legs up in stirrups while the doctor stitches you up, aching from the exertion of labor, leaning back awkwardly with a slimy baby squirming all across your chest, no amount of reading or looking at diagrams and photographs can help you get that baby to latch.  It's just an awkward place to be.  After things settled down the nurse gave me some pointers and they took us to our room.  The lactation consultant wouldn't arrive until morning so for the first night, I was on my own.

I tried my best to use the "C hold" and whatever else the book said but by the time the lactation consultant arrived I was already wincing in pain every time he tried to nurse and my nipples were cracked and sore.  By the end of day one they were bleeding.  I requested a visit from the lactation consultant three times during my stay and while each visit taught me something new, I just could not get him to latch without pain unless she was standing there to help me.  We went home on Saturday and spent two long days with a screaming newborn, and my nipples were so sore I dreaded every cry of hunger.

On Monday we returned to the hospital to weigh him and do what they called a "weigh-feed-weigh" where they weigh him, I feed him, and then they weigh him again to see how much milk he is getting.  Each feeding would take a minimum of 45 minutes and within 45 minutes he would be hungry again.  The lactation consultants helped me latch again, I fed him, and we discovered that he was only eating an ounce in the entire 45 minutes that I fed him.  My milk had just barely come in and he was losing weight too quickly for their comfort.  But I was determined to breastfeed him and armed with the knowledge that I had learned in The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding I was determined to avoid formula at all costs.*  The nurses recommended that I rent a hospital-grade pump and prescribed that after each feeding I should pump for at least 15 minutes to "trick" my body into thinking that I had twins and jump-start it into making more milk.  They gave me a special syringe and told me to take the milk that I had pumped and then feed it to Muffin using the syringe (it wasn't enough milk to even bother with a bottle!  Just a few drops each time).  In addition to this, they noticed that he had two very tight frenulum (the little flap of tissue under the tongue and also the other flap connecting the upper lip to the gums) and suspected that this was preventing him from latching successfully.  They said that a pediatrician could snip it in a simple procedure but until then it would likely be difficult to continue breastfeeding.

So we rented the pump and I began the most difficult two weeks of my life.

Each time he ate, the feeding lasted about 45 minutes.  Then I would go pump for 15 minutes, feed him with the syringe and clean the parts of the pump.  Within 30-45 minutes he would be hungry again and we would start all over.  On more than one occasion, after I finished pumping and fed him with the syringe he would immediately begin crying for more milk.  The only time I did not pump after feeding him was in the middle of the night.  He would sleep for no longer than 2 hours at a time and several nights not even that much.  There was no satisfying him with anything other than the breast and it was obvious from the way he was sucking that he was not getting much milk.  I was exhausted and my baby was starving.  The tears were abundant.

Two days after the first appointment I returned to the hospital for another weigh-feed-weigh.  He had gained a mere half-ounce in two days (the goal is an ounce a day, four times as much as my Muffin had gained) and only consumed an ounce yet again so the nurses recommended we rent the pump for another week.  My breasts just were not producing enough milk for him and he was hungry.  But since he had gained (albeit very little) we were hopeful.  I continued pumping after each feeding and the next day we took him to the pediatrician.  He looked at his frenulum and determined that it was not pronounced enough for him to feel comfortable snipping it, which was an encouragement to us.  But Muffin still had not gained very much, so we would return the next week to see him as well as again to the hospital for another weigh-feed-weigh.  And all this time my nipples were sore, cracked, and bloody.  The pain at each feeding (which was constant) was tear-inducing.  No matter how many times the nurses showed me how to get him to latch, I just could not manage it on my own.

The next week I began to see an increase in the amount of milk pumped after each feeding.  I went from drops of milk to half a teaspoon, to a teaspoon to two.  Muffin was still nursing constantly and my nipples were still bleeding but things were beginning to look up.  At the next weigh-feed-weigh there was a different nurse attending us and something clicked.  The way she described the latch just made more sense.  She demonstrated it and managed to latch him without any pain at all.  I cringed to prepare myself for the pain, but there was none.  It was like magic!  That moment was life changing for us both!  Suddenly, I felt so empowered that I could feed my son and I didn't have to suffer in order to do so.  He was consuming more milk, he began to act satisfied after each feeding, and my pain almost disappeared.

There were so many times over the course of those two weeks that I was tempted to give him a bottle of formula, but I kept remembering what I read in the book and the exhortations to just keep pressing on for at least six weeks.  The book didn't say it would be easy and that was true - it was the hardest thing I had ever done apart from labor itself.  I was exhausted, emotional, in physical pain, and felt like a failure for not being able to make enough milk for my son.  But the Lord provided the information that I needed, encouraging nurses, and modern technology (thanks, Medela!) to help me press on and increase my milk supply.  It didn't suddenly become easy, but it did become manageable.

Now, six months later, I'm so thankful that I pressed on.  It was worth every tear that I cried to be able to nurse my son.  I love the closeness that we share as I nurse him and his sweet little hands rest on my breast and tap tap tap to the rhythm of his sucking.  I love when he drinks his fill and stops to look up at me and smile with a little dribble falling down his chin.  And I love seeing the developing rolls of fat on his legs and knowing that as his mother, I was able to provide the nourishment to make that happen.

Isn't it miraculous how God made our bodies?  I am amazed more and more as I watch him grow, knowing that God caused him to grow big and strong with milk made in my own breast.

*A dear friend reminded me through my struggles that "formula is not the devil."  I do not mean to imply that those who formula-feed their babies are doing anything wrong, but simply that I was determined that for me, my preferred choice was to exclusively breastfeed.

2 comments:

  1. I ache (literally) to read about your struggles. I have talked to few people for which breastfeeding was easy. I had thrush for 5 weeks with Elliot, & fought it off with Jack as well (as well as fighting off mastitis). But I'm so thankful to be able to provide the best nutrition for my babies! I'm so glad you were able to fight through the pain (emotional & physical) & make it to where you are today. :)

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  2. Great post! I feel like new moms (myself included) often have such a happy go lucky view of breast feeding and don't realize how hard it really can be! I was blessed to have more than enough milk, but that led to engorgement and lots (I mean lots) of pumping so that Parker could latch. But dang does nursing hurt the first few weeks!! I watched all of "Parks and Rec" while Parker nursed, just so that I could have something to take my mind off the pain! He's 9 months old and started self weaning two weeks ago - I am so sad to see this precious time of life go and am hanging on to his one nursing session a day for as long as he'll let me!

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