Ahhh...how I just love to stir the pot eh? I am sure by this title, I am getting a slew of judgment!!!
Now on to my famous disclaimers....I have nothing against breastfeeding. I made it large, dark and underlined so we get that part crystal clear, LOL!!! I personally feel it's a beautiful thing and for those who are able to do it with ease, more power to you! This is just my story, my journey.
When I got pregnant, I had full intentions to breastfeed. I always thought it was neat that our bodies had a built in system to feed our babies. I had a good outlook on it. However, I knew of many terrible and sad stories of women and their struggle to breastfeed. I tried to keep my expectations low. I have a tendency to build things up in my head. When they don't go to plan, I am always very disappointed. I didn't want to set this huge expectations and be let down later. So, I just tried to keep a cool head about breastfeeding. The one thing that bugged me as my pregnancy progressed, was the expectation from Kaiser that I would breastfeed no matter what. No ifs, ands or buts about it. Kaiser is infamous for this. It was like I didn't have a choice, it was practically felt like "do or die". This feeling really irritated me. However, I would have full intentions of trying, no matter what.
I also didn't like the stigma if a woman isn't able or doesn't want to breastfeed. While our culture is so prudish about breastfeeding, especially in public, there is a movement of what seems like sheer hatred for those who don't breastfeed. "Breast is best", "my baby is only getting the best", "I'm giving my baby best thing God gave me" is some of the few comments I have heard. Well, God forbid you give your baby formula! In my breastfeeding class, I heard things from the lactation consultant that formula fed babies are more sickly, are more than likely to become obese, breastfed babies are smarter, etc. I had to laugh, because I knew about 5 formula fed babies in my life (now kids) that are GATE (gifted and talented education, for my non teacher friends, basically, they are highly intelligent), skinny, and hardly sick. But okay, your facts I am certain are solid, Ms. Lactation Lady! I remember sitting there in class, sweating bullets and thinking "Holy crap! I better be able to do this!" The pressure was on and I was praying I would be able to breastfeed. I felt a little anxious but tried to push those stressors out of my mind.
Let's go back to the day I delivered. I was moved to my recovery room, with my precious infant 3 floors below in NICU. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. It was starting to catch up to me. After being checked by the nurse, a pump was shoved in my hands. The nurse says, "now honey, you need to pump, pump, pump" I look at her disbelief and say, "how? I just delivered 6 weeks early! My body isn't ready". I'm no doctor, but I even knew my body wasn't prepared for all this. She dismisses me and says, "it doesn't matter, your body will get the message. You need to do it, every 3 hours, even through the night. Any milk you get, take to NICU." She briefs me a little more, shows me a bag of little bottles and syringes and she leaves. I blink in disbelief. All I want to do is see my baby and sleep. How the hell do I use this thing? I felt frustrated, angry and beyond tired.
Thankfully my sister was there and she showed me. It hurt so bad. Absolutely nothing came out. I felt disappointed. I was hoping it would just come free flowing, LOL! Finally the hour of recovery passed and I could go visit my precious prize in NICU. After seeing her for 5 minutes, they lifted her out of her incubator and wanted me to breastfeed immediately. Despite taking a class, I didn't know what to do, but I was more terrified to hold my tiny baby and make her to feed when I knew she wasn't ready, or at least that is what I thought. However, I wanted to commit to this and I carefully held her with some help. She latched but looked confused. Nothing came out. She started to suck weakly and still, nothing came out. She got frustrated and began to cry. I felt panicked. The nurse took her back and said "its okay, we will try again. You need to be pumping every 3 hours, no matter what". Sigh.
So, I listened to the nurses and pumped every 3 freaking hours. I was lucky that hubby and I got to stay at the hospital a few extra days in the border room set for NICU parents. I set my alarm and woke up a few times a night. Nothing was coming and I was getting frustrated. I was in a lot of pain, emotions are raging, and I am beyond exhausted. As I visit NICU in the first 2 days, I am hounded by certain nurses about my milk. "Do you have anything?" "are you still pumping every 3 hours?" etc was what I constantly heard. When I would explain that I was, they would give me looks like I wasn't doing enough. I would go to my room and cry. I was trying so hard and I felt like a failure. I finally was getting drops. Drops, people, just drops. I would scoop up my gold and put them in syringes. I would then give it to the nurses. I felt bad that it wasn't more. Finally on day 4, my milk supposedly came in. I rejoiced because I then thought I would be just fine. One thing I didn't realize was going to happen was the pain. The pain was the worst thing I had ever felt. I remember burying my head in hubby's arms and crying, it hurt so bad. So despite that pumping exacerbated the pain x10, I continued to pump. I would try and stay calm, look at Rowan's picture, the whole 9. However, I was barely clearing a half ounce. No joke.
WTF.
At this point, the pressure from some of the nurses was getting unbearable. This is what I heard:
"Why aren't you pumping more milk?"-I am, every three hours.
"You need to increase your time to 40 minutes"-Because 30 minutes isn't enough.
"Your daughter wouldn't spit up as much if you gave her more milk"-Wow, okay, I will do better next time then.
"You must pump every 3 hours, why aren't you doing that?"- I am, clearly you didn't hear me the first time.
Oh and the looks! When I would hand my tiny amount of milk, certain nurses would look back at me, with condescending pity.
And my favorite. I learned that Rowan had a bifid uvula (which is the dangly thing in the back of your throat. Hers is shaped like a heart). Nothing will really come from it, but that she might be prone to ear infections. The "wonderful" Dr. Buxton has the gall to say "Well, she wouldn't have future ear infections if she just had your breastmilk. Each time you come in, I want to see you pump at least an ounce on each breast." I remember looking at her, feeling completely astounded. What I wanted to do was tell her to shut the ---- up and punch her in the face. Instead, in a firm and steady voice, I say "I am doing the best I can. I am do everything I can to get milk. I am not getting enough and the pressure is too much". She seems to realize the idiocy of her statement and starts to backpedal.
I was at my wits end. I would call my sister daily and be in hysterics. She told me if I needed to stop, I can stop. I wanted to believe that, but everyone around me made me feel like I couldn't. I was also putting Rowan to breast a few times a day. However, she had weak jaw muscles that made it hard, and she had a poor latch, despite all the help I was getting. I would put her on my breast and she would scream and turn purple because she was starving and frustrated. Quite the amazing bonding experience, eh?
A middle disclaimer...please note that a majority of our NICU nurses were amazing beyond measure. It probably sounds like I hate them and I definitely don't. There were simply a very small group of nurses that were very Nazi-esque. Everyone else was amazing, kind and wonderful. I just wanted to throw that out there. OKay, let's continue.
The worst was one of the days in the middle of the our NICU stay. The nurse on that shift had me pump around the clock, take care of Rowan, then pump again. I was exhausted, and I hadn't eaten a single thing the whole day because I was either pumping or doing Rowan's cares (NICU buzz word for diaper, temp check and bottle feed). It was around 4 pm, and I was washing my jillion breast pump pieces. The new nurse that came on duty says, "Rowan's next cares are in 45 minutes. Will you be back to do them and pump?". At that point, I realized how long I had been in NICU. I was exhausted and starving. I look down at the sink and blink back the tears, but I just can't. I'm so overwhelmed. The nurse, who was actually one of the kinder ones, realized how upset I was and made me leave so I could rest. When I shared with hubby, he was infuriated. He asked if this was even worth it. He says this, because despite all my hard work, I was barely making an ounce in each session. So much work for so little result. However, the thoughts of "breast is best" "anything is better than nothing" was so stuck in my head I wanted to keep going.
Despite my willingness to keep on, I decided to push back to the pressure. Whenever I got grief, I made sure to stand my ground and not let anyone give me crap when I was trying so dang hard. That's when I met another slew of nurses who were kind and showed me grace. One shared how she could hardly breastfeed herself, her supply was so low. So many of these nurses held my hand and would quietly say that I could stop. That I am not a bad mother. This experience doesn't make me any less of woman. Who gives a s--- what anyone says or thinks. That my baby was growing and thriving on formula. You are nourishing your baby, and that is important. A happy, unstressed mother is the best mother. You are a good mother, and not any less because you are struggling to breastfeed. They had to be quiet on this advice because they really aren't supposed to promote to stop breastfeeding. Their whole mantra is just to breastfeed. So saying all of that was controversial.
This brought so much encouragement to my heart, and it made the last few days of our draining stay more bearable. My sister, who was one of my biggest cheerleaders, asked me what I wanted to do once we left. I had decided I would still pump and try to breastfeed her. I simply didn't want to give up.
Once we were home, I was pumping 4-5 a day, in total ONLY producing 2 ounces, enough for just one feed. I would put Rowan to breast, but she HATED it, despite me working so hard. What proved even MORE difficult was I had a stupid UTI the first 3 weeks we were home. It was getting worrisome, because it wasn't going away and I was on so many different types of meds. I had to pump and dump, because Rowan's doctor didn't want her to absorb my medicine, for fear her immature liver wouldn't tolerate it. Pumping and dumping is beyond depressing. All of that stupid medicine also affected my already awful supply. All of this to say, was this really even worth it? Even after my UTI was FINALLY cleared, I barely produced 3 ounces after a full day's worth of pumping. It was beyond frustrating. I began taking fenugreek and drinking mother's milk, but it only helped slightly. I was barely clearing 3.
Last week, my sister and I had a heart to heart about breastfeeding. I shared with her I wanted to keep trying because I felt this horrific guilt and truly felt like a failure. I felt like I failed my daughter. This should have been the one thing that was natural and easy and I straight up bombed. We talked for a good while, with her giving me support and encouragement, which I so badly needed. That evening, hubby and I had a chat about this too, if this was really worth it. He could see how hard it was for me, how disappointed when I would pull back the pump, and look at my depressing supply. He said "You are an amazing mother. You can stop". I realized at this point, I deep down wanted to stop as well. My daughter was healthy and gaining weight at such a fast rate. She was happy and thriving. I knew it was okay to stop.
So, as of today, I am no longer pumping and breastfeeding. I have zero guilt now, because I knew I gave it everything I had. I am angry and sad for my experience. I went through hell for my daughter. The stress and pressure from hospital staff was cruel and unkind. While Kaiser prides itself for being baby friendly, it sure as hell isn't mother friendly. My pretty baby girl is a champion eater and is happy. Right at this moment, she weighs over 10.5 pounds, inching closer to 11 pounds. Her doctor and the nurses are amazed at her "preemie" weight (ha, she is off that preemie weight chart) and are thrilled she is doing so well. She easily doubled her weight after barely 2 months.
At the end of the day, my beautiful girl is thriving. She bonds with daddy and I (since daddy CAN ACTUALLY feed her), smiling through the bottle nipple, and staring at us with those beautiful eyes. As I bottle-feed my beautiful girl late at night, I feel an intense connection with her, and pray for her as she chomps away. Since stopping, I am so much more happier and at peace. As I mentioned earlier, my daughter is being nourished and is thriving. At the end of the day, isn't that what matters?
