There are two things you need to know about breastfeeding.
1) You can’t fail at it. You really can’t. If you breastfeed for an hour, a day, a week, a year or three, you have succeeded. You have given your child something vital and necessary that only you could provide. That makes you a success.
2) Even though you can’t fail at it, sometimes it can feel like it.
Here is Laura’s story.
Even before I found out I was pregnant, I knew that I wanted to breastfeed my child. I had hoped to provide milk for my baby until he was at least a year old, longer if he decide to wean. During my pregnancy I went with my husband, Greg, to the class our lactation consultant taught at the hospital, read books about breastfeeding, and talked to people who had nursed their children to learn about their personal experiences. I started this journey aware that the road could be easy, difficult, or somewhere in between. No matter how things turned out I was going to give it my all, and I am confident that in spite of everything, I did just that.
Five pounds and thirteen ounces of snuggly, sweet-smelling baby boy. We had an uneventful pregnancy and an intervention-free hospital birth (with a wonderful midwife!) after laboring at home. Greg and I were both committed to helping our son breastfeed, but by about ten hours post-birth Gavin had still been unable to latch. He was born with a tongue tie, which further complicated things. Even with the help of a wonderful lactation consultant who spent hours with us over the course of our stay, we still had no luck, and I cried as I gave the little guy his first bottle of formula and hooked myself up to a pump. “Only temporary, I promised myself… We’ll get this figured out and wean off the formula.”
To avoid using the bottle as much as possible, I gave Gavin colostrum and what milk I had from a syringe/dropper. When we were discharged from the hospital I firmly believe that the midwives, nurses and lactation consultant thought that my supply would come in on day three. Unfortunately, it never did. I continued to pump every two to three hours and make several attempts a day to get Gavin to latch with no success. By the time we when to his first appointment with the pediatrician, my little one was dehydrated. His doctor gave us specific instructions about how much Gavin needed to drink in 24 hours, and we pushed formula in bottles for that time. When we took him back to the doctor the next day, his body temperature had dropped. That, combined with an increased red blood cell count to to my thalassemia minor (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thalassemia) during pregnancy, landed him in the NICU for a few days to receive IV fluids. I continued to pump at the hospital, which had a room with pumps and refrigerators set up for NICU mommas. We spoke with lactation consultant number two at the NICU before we went home, still with no success.
Gavin did not start to latch until he was six weeks old, and by that time was accustomed to getting his food from bottles. I cherish those few times when my son latched and nursed; I can count them on one hand. Pure bliss! For better or worse -and I choose better- I was able to have a taste of what a mother-child breastfeeding relationship is like.
Once he was eight weeks old, the regimented pumping schedule was no longer able to keep pace with my baby’s needs. He’d drink the little milk I could produce and then polish off a full bottle of formula. After talking and crying with our family, friends, doctor, and lactation consultants, we made the decision to slowly stop pumping and fully transition Gavin off of my milk. Up until that point we’d decided that the effort of pumping was worth the milk he’d been able to get, but I was tired and worn out. My husband was equally worn out after struggling by my side for so long, and milk was making up a smaller and smaller percentage of Gavin’s diet. I, with support, decided that it was more important to my son to rest and be emotionally healthy than to continue to wake up to an alarm every two hours to pump. I, who had been determined from the beginning, gave up. Failed. Threw in the towel.
No amount of well-intentioned “It doesn’t matter because your baby is happy and healthy” ‘s, “You did everything you could” ‘s, and pats on the back could make me feel better. My body had turned on me. Even though my son and I were very attached to one another, we had lost out on a very special part of our early time together.
Nearly three years down the road, and I still don’t know why I wasn’t able to provide more milk for my child. Perhaps it was the stress of having Gavin in the NICU. Maybe it was the amount of time it took for him to latch. I will never know, and I am finally beginning to accept that and find some measure of peace… even forgive myself. I know that I will never look at a nursing mother and assume her path was easy. Nor will I see a momma with a bottle and make the judgement that she didn’t want to breastfeed or even that her bottle contains formula. And, who knows? We’re thinking about having another child in a couples years. Things may go easier on us the second time around, and I’m eager to have the opportunity to try again.
There is one more thing you need to know about breastfeeding; one more thing besides not being able to fail while still being able to feel as though you failed at it. The last thing is this.
Any woman who has ever breastfed knows that the reason you do it is not for you. You do it for your child. And though you child will probably never say it, he/she will be thankful for you doing it. He will be thankful for that hour, day, week or year. He will be thankful for you. And that is all that really maters.
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Special thanks to Laura for sharing her story and beautiful photographs.










