Why THIS mom didn't meet her breastfeeding goals.

I just read a post over on PhD in Parenting that has me kind of fuming. My thoughts are far too long to include as a comment, so I’m writing about it here instead.

I have resolved a lot of my feelings about this over the last four years, but I’ve had this come up a couple of times recently and Annie’s post was enlightening in a way that no other breastfeeding information ever has been. This list of reasons (that are identified as myths in Annie’s post) why women are encouraged to supplement with formula in hospital that reopened the frustrated wounds of my failed breastfeeding experience:

  • Your baby is hungry
  • You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you, so I just gave him a bit of formula.
  • Your milk hasn’t come in yet. We’d better get him on a bottle.
  • Your baby has low blood sugar.
  • Your baby is crying a lot.
  • Colustrum has no nutritional value.
  • It will cure jaundice.
  • Maybe if he has a bit of formula, he’ll know what it feels like to have a full tummy and that will make him interested in nursing.
  • Your baby’s blood sugar is too low.
  • Since English isn’t your mother tongue, you should really just formula feed.

The three that are bolded? Those are all things that I was told or led to believe. Let me back up and tell you a bit more of my story interspersed with information I have learned since giving birth.

I have polycystic ovarian syndrom (PCOS). I was diagnosed 10 years ago after miscarrying my first child. (Wow…I would have a nearly ten year old this year if that hadn’t gone the way it did.) My GP who was caring for me until I got to 30 weeks should have been closely monitoring me for signs of gestational diabetes, including ordering the GD testing early - at 24 weeks or earlier instead of the usual 28/29.

I entered the diabetes clinic, was monitored for blood sugar regularity and size of the baby. At 37 weeks, when an ultrasound estimated that Brandon was about 9 pounds, I left the ultrasound clinic in tears, knowing that my doctor was going to recommend c-section. She scared me into it and that’s all I’ll say about that. Yes, my son was 10.5lbs at birth, but women CAN give birth naturally to large babies - it’s not the end of the world. I did not want a section. I was (and still am) terrified of surgery. Should we decide to have another, I will go for VBAC - no doubt in my mind.

Prior to giving birth or even being pregnant, I did a significant amount of reading about PCOS, the symptoms and effects on my body/life and how to manage it. Not once did I ever read anything about low milk supply. I have no idea how that significant and frustrating fact escaped me. It wasn’t until my pre-op, 5 days before my surgery that the nurse (also a lactation consultant) raised the red flag to me. 

I went home in tears. I was having a c-section, which is known to complicate breastfeeding AND I had a broken body that may not work right. Talk about stress and frustration and bad timing!

Fast forward to nearly a week later. I’m blissfully unpregnant, staying as still as possible so as not to disturb my incision and my Friday night nurse makes a helpful suggestion. Brandon really isn’t getting enough to eat from me. He’s wanting food more often than every three hours (no mention of the possibility of breastfeeding on demand). She offers to help me with lact-aid. Brilliant! I can supplement and still get the benefits of breastfeeding. 

We did this Friday and all day Saturday until the night nurse arrived in my room just after Matt left for the day for the regular feeding. She immediately started to tell me that I needed to decide what I was going to do when I got home because we couldn’t do lact-aid at home. Oh, did I mention that this was about 11:00pm? Yeah, her timing was awesome. Not to mention that she didn’t once tell us WHY we couldn’t do it at home.

She delivered this news while she also informed me that I was doing everything wrong, despite the fact that my son had latched like a champ for two days with no problem. She proceeded to put her hands in front of his face so I couldn’t see what I was doing to get him latched on. This resulted in repeated failure to get him situated. She even shoved the lact-aid tube so far into his mouth that she choked him once. He had his first screaming fit that night thanks to the nurse from hell. And I had my first breakdown. 

After she left the room and Brandon was settled, I called Matt in tears. He returned to the hospital and found said nurse to have a little talk with her. Then he stayed with me until 2:00am when we were to do the next feeding so that he could handle the lact-aid without needing the nurse from hell to help. This didn’t stop her from barging in my room and delivering pamphlets on how to bottle feed and the process to sterilize bottles. I refused to say a word or even look her in the eye, I was so angry. Her audacity still amazes me. If I had a baby in that hospital today and she walked into my room as my nurse, I would tell her to go switch with someone else. I can’t believe someone like that is allowed to work in a birth unit.

The day after, shift change brought a kinder more level-headed nurse who gently explained that lact-aid had to be used with the supervision of a certified lactation consultant. Ah. Okay. She helpfully provided some formula samples and we packed up and left the hospital and made a trip to the drug store to rent a breast pump and purchase bottles and formula, which I hadn’t bought before because I hadn’t planned to use them.

Five days post-partum (and the day after we were released), I attended the hospital’s breastfeeding clinic where the LC recommended that I obtain some Blessed Thistle, Fenugreek and ask my GP for a prescription of Domperidone. I stopped at the health food store on the way home for my herbs and called my doctor right away. Her nurse practitioner called me back to say that she wouldn’t give me the prescription despite the fact that all eight OB/GYNs at the hospital I where I gave birth recommend it for helping with low milk supply. I never went back to that GP again. 

I was able to obtain a prescription from my OB for domperidone, but not until a full two weeks post-partum. The herbal supplements had already helped, and I saw a difference with domperidone, but no one ever told me to just let the baby nurse as much as possible or feed on demand. I was told to feed him for 15 minutes on each side, then pump for 15 minutes. The process was exhausting and it really didn’t help my milk supply improve.

Little chronological side note: At my six week checkup, my OB saw something made her question me - it’s a symptom of my PCOS and I told her I had it. My GP had not informed her when she referred me to the OB. That cemented my decision to never go to that GP again. Lesson learned, though: Do not assume your doctor is doing their job well - they could be missing key steps that have a big impact. My OB needed that information while I was pregnant, not after.

I took domperidone for eight weeks. I didn’t risk asking for more than that because my OB was annoyed that she had to be the one to prescribe it. We rented the breast pump for eight weeks. But because we were buying more formula all the time, and the domperidone had run out, I returned it. I’d continue giving Brandon breast milk as long as it lasted and let nature guide me.

At just shy of three months, Brandon turned away from me for the last time, refusing my milk because there just wasn’t any there. The drip, drip of that faucet was quickly silenced and as much as I tried to tell myself I did everything I could, I knew there was probably more I could have done.

I wasn’t wrong, as I’ve learned in the years since. I may never have been able to build the milk supply needed to breastfeed my son exclusively, but I think the system failed me in a number of ways. It’s been a learning experience that will inform my decisions in future should we have another child, but it frustrates me to no end that I could have and should have had a better chance.

Maybe by sharing my experience other moms can learn from the mistakes I made in ignorance. But most of all, follow your gut. First time moms should have a voice that is every bit as loud and confident as second, third, etc. moms. If something is bothering you or you disagree, speak up. If your doctor or other caregiver isn’t giving you rational reasons for their recommendations, find another opinion and don’t put it off. Do your research, because you have to be your own biggest advocate in all areas of health - for you and for your child(ren).

You know what they say about assuming...

This morning when I logged in to twitter, someone had sent me a DM with the following question (edited to remove potentially identifying details and broaden the scope of my thoughts):

If I write a post about <insert life choice> and all the pressure as a <insert stage of life> to <re-insert life choice>, will <insert all those people at previous stated life stage pursuing previously stated choice> get mad at me?

Oy…what a question to start the day with. My first instinct? I was annoyed that this individual felt they had to ask. NOT annoyed that they asked, because I was happy to share my thoughts. What bothered me about the question was that they knew there was a possibility - okay, probability - that there would be negative (judgmental) reactions to their choices.

You see, we have this idea that life should go a certain “ideal” way. Here’s the general order in my experience:

  1. You’re born.
  2. You have a childhood.
  3. You go to university or college.
  4. You date.
  5. You start your career.
  6. You get married.
  7. You buy a house.
  8. You have kids.
  9. You have a career.
  10. You retire.
  11. You travel/downsize/become a snowbird (for Canadians).
  12. You die.

But darn it all if humans - who made these rules - don’t bother to follow them! (I know…shocking!)

Some people don’t get a degree, including me.
Some people don’t get legally married.
Some people don’t buy a house.
Some people don’t have kids.
Some people don’t establish a career.
Some people don’t retire.

Despite all these exceptions to “the rules”, people still push these narrow and highly unimaginitive expectations on the people in their lives at the stages when they get there, disregarding entirely any possible reasons that someone might not want to follow this path.

Every time a high school graduate crosses a stage to pick up a diploma, there is someone waiting on the other side to ask them where they’re going to go to school and what they’re going to study. 

Couples who date for more than six months or so fend off questions about when they’re going to get engaged. Then, they get engaged and you’d think people would be happy, but NO! That merely starts the round of wedding date inquiries.

The wedding should satisfy people, but it really doesn’t. How many weddings have you been to where the question of kids hasn’t come up? Not many, eh? Didn’t think so. Seriously? Give them AT LEAST a day before you start asking, people.

I think the time from high school graduation to probably late thirties/early forties have to be the most intense period of life changes and busybody interference and questioning. 

I know people mostly mean well, but I personally found it really difficult - emotionally - when I was asked when I was going to have children. This went on for years, because I’d already lost a baby and you don’t just share that information with everyone you meet. That decision was intensely personal for me and Matt; it wasn’t something that was anyone else’s business. After one particularly awkward conversation with someone who was barely an acquaintance, I vowed that I would not ask anyone else when or if they were going to have kids. If we are meant to have that discussion, it would come up naturally in a way that the other person is comfortable with.

Then I watched a co-worker get relentlessly nosey questions (practically interrogations) about when she was going to get married to her long-time boyfriend for over three years. She handled it with grace and dignity, but it got to the point that even I was uncomfortable when it happened. So, I extended my rule to other life stages as well.

Why?

Because I don’t want to make assumptions about choices that others are making. We’re all different. We all have different experiences and backgrounds that affect our choices. The road I take is right for me to the best of my knowledge. It isn’t necessarily right for anyone else and it’s better that I build a relationship with someone to talk about these things than unknowingly creating a potentially awkward situation for them or me. Ultimately, I’ve found that I develop more sustainable and deep relationships with people when I don’t dig too deep too soon.

Have you ever felt the pressure to make certain decisions about life choices from people around you? How did you handle it?

Three years ago

It was just after 8:28 - your official time of birth - that we heard you cry for the first time. I didn’t get to hold you until roughtly an hour later, and for that first day, not nearly as much as I wanted throughout the day.

Since your birthday three years ago, I’ve held you, nursed you, comforted you, played with you, hugged you, kissed you, fed you, along with a million other things that moms do. Most of all I’ve loved you.

I love your smile, your kisses, your laugh, your words, your walk, your run, your sleep, your mischievious grins, your curiosity and affectionate sweetness.

Three years ago today you came into this world and our family as we know it was born. 

Happy Birthday, Brandon!