Breast is best

[warning: I apologize in advance for the length and personal nature of this post.  I have contemplated whether or not to post this for over a week.  The experience of writing it was cathartic to me and at first I thought that maybe that was the purpose it was supposed to serve.  There's a very good chance that this post will be interesting to no one but me.  But this is all about being open and honest - even though the vulnerability that comes along with that honesty that scares me - and if by some chance I can somehow help someone to avoid some of the mommy guilt I've experienced, it'll be worth it.] 

Throughout my pregnancy, I, like every pregnant woman I've ever known, knew that I would breastfeed.  I thought I'd do it for at least six months, but I was open to doing it longer. After all, breast is best.  Even the formula companies admit that.  These days, it's common knowledge that breastfeeding reduces ear infections and the chance for asthma, decreases the risk of SIDS, and may even help to prevent obesity.  Plus, it burns calories (something I desperately needed after gaining over fifty pounds a lot of weight during my pregnancy).  My sister did it, my sister-in-law did it.  I just knew I was going to do it.

Well, reality set in quickly after Bailey was born.  We had troubles getting Bailey to latch and stay latched in the hospital (I swear it takes six hands to get and keep a newborn latched, and I just don't have that many!)   Then, when we got Bailey home, she would nurse for hours (at least one 3 hour "feeding" a day) and still seem unsatisfied.  While nursing, she'd cry and hit my breast with her fist in obvious frustration.  I'd cry and wish I could hit something to express my frustration.  I began to dread nursing and even, to some degree, resent the immense responsibility that comes along with it.  But I was determined to continue and Bailey was having dirty and wet diapers, so we kept going.   

Then, at Bailey's two week pediatrician appointment, we got some disheartening, but not completely shocking, news.  Newborns are supposed to gain an ounce per day and should reach their birthweight by two weeks.  Bailey, however, had gained only 4 ounces and wasn't close to reaching her birthweight.  It was pretty clear that she had been, if not starving, extremely hungry for the last two weeks.

Because of Bailey's insufficient weight gain, our pediatrician suggested we supplement with formula.   As  nursing on demand is encouraged in order to build your supply to meet your baby's needs, our pediatrician first suggested that I use a supplemental nursing system which allows the baby to get milk but at the same time stimulates your milk supply.  However, when I went to a lactation consultant to get one, even she couldn't seem to get the supplemental nursing system to work (after I'd paid for it of course).   So after we struck out with that, my pediatrician suggested that we supplement with a bottle of formula after every other nursing session, stating that she had seen other moms do this and return to full-time nursing after a couple weeks of supplementing.  

After Bailey drank from a bottle and had a full belly, it was like a switch had flipped and she was a different baby.  She wasn't screaming and crying ten minutes after a feeding.  It didn't take 3 hours to feed her. She wasn't hitting me.  Coincidentally, I wasn't crying, at least not as much.  But, we KNEW breast was best.  The only problem was, our baby was miserable with the breast, and she was taking our whole family with her.

So, out of a desperate need to know that I wasn't starving my baby and yet still know that she was receiving all the benefits of breastmilk, we decided I would pump and we would feed Bailey my pumped milk out of a bottle.  I pumped at least 8 times a day to match Bailey's feeding schedule and we supplemented with formula as needed (usually not more than an ounce of formula per feeding).  I tried to boost my supply by doing extra "power" pumps, eating vast quantities of oatmeal, and taking 16 horse pills of Fenugreek a day.  I tried to schedule pumpings during naps, but newborns just aren't that predictable, and I'd end up trying to comfort a hungry baby from arm's length because I had cones and bottles attached to my chest.  Even when Bailey began to occasionally sleep through the night, I'd wake up to my alarm and pump because I couldn't lose that milk.  I pumped in the car on road trips to see family.  I pumped so much that my chest was so sore and I'd cry out if Bailey accidentally kicked it.  I was spending at least four hours every day pumping in addition to the time it took to feed Bailey a bottle (at least 30-45 minutes per feeding) and the time it took to wash bottles and pump parts (way more time than you'd think).

Six weeks into pumping, I could no longer ignore the shooting pains.  I also couldn't ignore the white patches on Bailey's gums.  We both had thrush (a yeast infection passed from the breast or breastmilk to the baby's mouth).  I was exhausted and heartbroken, and I felt incredibly guilty for passing on such a (gross) condition to my sweet baby.  I was also scared that, if I continued to pump, the yeast would never go away (note to self: never google health problems, you'll only convince yourself of the worst case scenario).  So, I decided to quit pumping.

Bailey did great with the transition to formula feeding.  I did not.  To this day, I can bring myself to tears thinking about my lack of success at breastfeeding, and even my decision to stop pumping.  I wear myself out considering all my questions surrounding the whole experience.  Was it my fault because I didn't take a breastfeeding class during the pregnancy?  Did I ruin my supply from the start by sending her to the nursery at the hospital those first 3 nights?  Should I have insisted upon nursing exclusively for one more week?  Should I have followed the advice of the lactation consultant and had skin to skin contact with Bailey for at least half an hour before every feeding (but the feedings never ended....?)  Was Bailey unable to nurse efficiently because I used a nipple shield, or because I subsequently tried to quit using the nipple shield?  Was it because I had to have a c-section?  Am I just a quitter?

I will never know the answer to those questions, and my mommy guilt remains.  But a little forgiveness creeps in occasionally.  After my troubles began, I talked to and heard about a number of moms with similar problems.  All of them are great moms.  My own mom, who is not only an amazing mom but also my best friend, had similar problems breastfeeding my sister (my other best friend) and me before resorting to formula, so maybe there's a genetic link. 

I wholeheartedly believe that breast is best, but there is a reason formula exists and is a multi-billion dollar business (I didn't do any research to support that figure, but based on what they charge for the stuff, I think that's a pretty safe assumption). 

I am a firm believer that no mom should ever feel guilty for keeping their child fed and happy, but it's easier said than done.

So, I am actively working to banish my mommy guilt and focus on my beautiful, healthy, and extremely sweet and good-natured baby girl.  One thing is definitely certain:  every time I see this baby's gorgeous smile, I know I'm doing something right. 

(post script: I do plan to nurse our next child, whenever that will be.  I also plan to be more proactive in trying not to turn straight to the bottle.  But at the same time, I don't plan to beat myself up if the same issues happen again.  I guess only time will tell.)