Our breastfeeding story this week comes from Sarah. Sarah began her breastfeeding journey after a traumatic birth and her son being in the NICU for 18 days. She struggled with balancing triple feeding, and trying to do what was best for her baby only to feel overwhelmed time and time again. Read below about her journey and how she is proud of it—as she should be!
My breastfeeding journey has been nothing like I expected. As a first time mother, I thought it would be easy, but it’s been anything but easy.
At 35 weeks, my husband and I drove to the hospital after my blood pressure skyrocketed. By the time we were in triage, it was so high the nurse turned to me and said, “I’m surprised you haven’t had a seizure yet.” They rushed me into an emergency c-section and before I knew it my son was here. In two hours I went from sitting on the couch watching The Great British Bake-Off, to being a mother. My husband was able to steal a glance at our son as they whisked him off to the NICU, but I didn’t get the chance to see him until two hours later. The moment I was settled in my hospital room the nurse wheeled the pump to my bedside and told me it was time to pump. So, I did what she advised and attached myself to that metal, whirring, machine. I pumped every three hours and pumped as long as I saw milk, which turned out to be for one hour each time. RIP my nipples. I was lucky that my milk came in quickly and my son was able to get colostrum and my breast milk. I visited him in the NICU as often as I could, trying desperately to be there for every feed. This proved difficult as my blood pressure was still not completely under control. The hospital staff would give me permission to visit him only after taking my vitals. I vividly remember standing at the door of my room, clutching my bottle of breastmilk as nurses, residents, and doctors argued about letting me see my baby only to be told no. I understand now it was for my safety, but at the moment it was heartbreaking.
My son spent eighteen days in the NICU as we overcame his health challenges and tried to feed him. I attempted to nurse at every feed I could, but most of the time he needed to supplement afterward. There was talk of a tongue tie, but his medical team seemed to be really against snipping it. After we came home, the struggles with breastfeeding continued. I was told at the hospital that I had an oversupply and to stop pumping completely and let him get what he needed. Every time we nursed, though, he would fall asleep no matter what I tried or he would get frustrated and end up not eating much. I would either nurse him again in ten minutes or supplement with a bottle. Suffice it to say, my supply tanked and I started pumping again. After a visit with a lactation consultant, I began triple feeding, which means I would nurse, pump, and then supplement with what I pumped or had stored previously. This meant that I spent all of my time feeding the baby, washing pump parts and bottles, and by the time I was done he would wake up and need to eat again. There was no break, no moment to breathe, and I had no time to truly enjoy my baby. I couldn’t just cuddle him after he ate, because I had to either supplement or pump or both at the same time. I was exhausted, sad, and lonely because no one understood how I felt. I was constantly asked, “why?” Why don’t you just nurse him and forget about pumping? Why don’t you just stop and feed him formula? Why is getting this to work so important? Why? Because everything had gone so wrong with his birth, I felt that in his first few days, the least I could do was provide him breastmilk. Now I understand how flawed this thinking was. However at the time, not being able to nurse felt like yet another failure.
Eventually, I had to choose one thing to drop from this triple feeding nightmare. I chose to give up nursing. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. I cried. I felt like a failure. I thought I was the worst mother for stopping, but I was able to enjoy my child a little more. Yes, I still had to attach myself to that whirring torture device every three hours. But it allowed me to release some of the anxiety and stress from feeding my son and truly bond with him.
Eleven months postpartum and I’m still pumping. It hasn’t been easy by any means. I’ve sacrificed sleep, freedom to leave the house, and more to provide breastmilk and I still get sad about how my breastfeeding journey ended up. I see beautiful photos of mothers nursing their children, or friends having the journey I so desperately wanted, and it stirs up those negative emotions. When I catch myself feeling down or jealous, I acknowledge those feelings and let them sit for a moment before reminding myself of everything I’ve been able to do. My son has received eleven months of breastmilk from me. I am so proud of myself for sticking with it for as long as I have and for working as hard I have. It is honestly one of my proudest accomplishments. More importantly, though, is that my son has a mother who is happy and no longer beating herself up for her perceived breastfeeding failures. I’ve learned that it’s okay to feel sadness and loss for an experience that didn’t go the way I had hoped, but I strive to acknowledge my successes and hard work and find comfort and pride in providing what I can for my son.
What do you think about Sarah’s story? We think she did an amazing job providing for her son in the best possible way she could! Thanks for sharing Sarah!
Would you like to share your breastfeeding story our blog? Submit it here!