Maybe There's No Such Thing as Breastfeeding Normalcy

 I am writing this because my breastfeeding journey has been one of excitement, pain, frustration, worry, confusion, anger, sadness and relief.

When I was pregnant I was steadfast in the idea that I would breastfeed. I did all my research, joined blogs, forums and support groups. I was so excited about being able to breastfeed I even gave myself the ambitious goal to breastfeed for a year. This is my story:

I started leaking colostrum at thirty weeks. Apparently that was normal, weird, as my breast have never leaked anything, but nonetheless uh... normal. So I bought some nursing pads, read more on the amazing powers of colostrum (seriously, this shit basically has the healing power of Phoenix tears), read more about the perfect latch, and avoided stimulating my nipples until I was closer to my due date, as to not induce my self accidently, watched my big pregnant boobs jiggle when I brushed my teeth, and pinned more breastfeeding articles on Pinterest.

Flash forward eight weeks, I went for a routine ultrasound and ended up getting induced. (for more of that story click here). All the articles, books and blogs I read said the best thing one can possibly do for breastfeeding success is to breastfeed as soon as you can after birth. Since I had an unmedicated birth, it was as soon as they plopped that adorable, goopy little miracle on my chest. Emmett latched (I think, and so I was told, again I've never had a baby eat from my boob, so how would I know?). As far as I knew we were on the road to a year of happy breastfeeding success.

Emmett Breastfeeding and Emmett enjoying a bottle

Or not.

A Lactation Consultant's picture of Me and E 

The hospital I delivered at was great at encouraging skin to skin and all the other things that promote a good start to breastfeeding. They sent Lactation Consultants to see us and gave me a pump to use and everything! Emmett ended up needing some donor breastmilk (thanks to any woman who is able to donate that wonderful lifeline) so he was supplemented with that a couple of times while I pumped every two hours, after feeding him, to extract every drop of that precious liquid gold they call colorstum, and to stimulate my milk supply. Not that this was easy, I was having incredible pain, but I was told it was normal. I was also producing significantly more milk from my left breast, again, normal.

All of these normal issues I was told would resolve. My sister had latch issues, but they resolved around four weeks. So I made a mental note and kept waiting for my issues to resolve.

It wasn't only that the pump hurt, but breastfeeding itself hurt, my letdown hurt. I was told the letdown sensation felt like tingling, or pins and needles. No. My letdown felt like an Iron Maiden forcing lava from my tits. Sometimes I felt a letdown and milk didn't even come out (normal)! What a rip off! On top of my teeth-clenching-toe-curlingly painful letdown, whenever I put Emmett on, he bit. Not once when he latched, not randomly while he was suckling, but constantly. I tried taking him off, telling him "no" and relatching, but then I was relatching 7, 8, 9, 10 times per feeding (which you're not supposed to do). So we investigated if Emmett had tongue tie. It would be a simple procedure to fix, and would improve breastfeeding tenfold. Only he didn't. So no miracle cure there. I started pumping more and breastfeeding less. I would breastfeed while Nick was at work and once he got home I'd pump. Then it came to the point where I was calling Nick crying my face off because it hurt so bad and I was so frustrated. One Lactation Consultant gave me a nipple shield, it helped with the pain, but Emmett didn't get any milk, so that was a no go.

Around five weeks postpartum, after going to see Lactation Consultants (one even told me I'd never have success breastfeeding) and investigating possible tongue tie, I went to Exclusively Pumping. For those of you who don't know what Exclusively Pumping is, it is all the pains of breastfeeding combined with all the bottles (and more) of formula feeding. Pumping was much less emotionally painful, as my child wasn't torturing me with his demon bites, but it was no less physically painful. Still the insanely painful letdown (normal?!?), and of course because I could see what I was producing, worry over supply arises (totally normal). I ate and drank everything that was supposed to help with milk supply. My mom suggested I have a glass on wine after a particularly stressful day of crying over spilt milk, I opted for the allegedly supply increasing dark beer instead. I ate whole grains, avocados, steel cut oats, pain-in-the-ass-to-bake lactation cookies, brewers yeast, drank a ton of water daily, drank Gatorade, drank mother's milk tea, added tinctures and Fenugreek capsules, increased my caloric intake,  I rented a hospital grade pump, used a manual pump, used my sister's old pump, used the pump my insurance paid for, pumped more often, and power pumped. I actually got more milk when I pumped less often to an extent (normal?) I did get a small freezer stash built up.

Meet, my boyfriend. 

Around twelve weeks postpartum I was concerned because for each of my seven or eight pumping sessions I was pumping for at least thirty minutes. I went to the doctor again. My doctor was awesome, she listened to all I had done, and commented that nobody she's known had gone through so much shit (I'm paraphrasing) to get their baby milk (that made me feel good.) I was checked for thrush, and treated for double mastitis, prescribed antibiotics, a nasal spray to stimulate a quicker letdown and a nipple cream with an analgesic, antifungal, and antibiotic. Those helped for a little while but then things went back to normal (for me), thirty-painful-minute pumping sessions, and eating and drinking everything rumored to help supply. I knew it was time to throw in the towel, but for those of you who know me, it will come as no surprise that I was too damn stubborn. Even though I hated my pump, I was tied to it, tied down by it, it was basically my boyfriend on the side.

A few more weeks went by. Once we reached sixteen weeks, much to my chagrin, I had finally accepted that it was time to throw in the towel. Once it sank in that I would not reach my goal of one year of breastfeeding or even six months of pumping I cried for an entire day. Nonetheless, I started pumping less and less. It was so relieving to do so. The day I pumped only three times was amazing! I spent so much more time with Emmett. It was less me trying to get him to sleep so I could pump again, and more me playing, cooing, and enjoying my time with him. It began to sink in that this was the right decision. I started researching formulas and chose an organic formula, because I'm crunchy like that. We have been giving him formula and breast milk, using the stash of breastmilk I had built up. Emmett is doing great on those, and I have been done with pumping, save for a time or two to relieve engorgement. It was one of the most difficult decisions for me to make, but it was what my baby and I needed. I am lucky to have a family who supported my breastfeeding, pumping, and formula feeding. Who was there to cry with me, and love me when I was going through hell.

What I learned with all of this, was the incredible lengths I was willing to go to get my baby fed my breastmilk, and how sometimes putting my goal aside can be the best thing for me and my baby. I have so much understanding, love and appreciation for the women who breastfeed, Exclusively Pump, and formula feed. I know almost every aspect that goes into those decisions and I respect that no there is no normal decision that is the same for every mom. I hope I will have better success breastfeeding future children, but I know that whatever I decide to do to feed my baby is the right thing. I don't think what I went though was normal. I know what is normal for one person is not normal for another. I know better than to expect perfection, and I learned that normal is not quite what it seems.

Pam